Snape's Oceans
by Theolyn
Summary: Who would Severus become without his burden of self-loathing? And how will that Severus react when Ron Weasley's widow comes seeking healing of her own? DH compliant, save for Snape's survival. SS/LP followed by SS/HG M for later chapters.
1. Heal Thyself

Chapter One: Absolution

Pain. So much pain. An ocean of it. The venom is searing him. His teeth are chattering from blood loss. Dying this way...without dignity...writhing, in front of _them_. Even in his agony, it galls him. Better to focus on those eyes. Bright green. Cool, like an Irish field. So like hers. He can almost imagine they are her eyes, that_ she_ is the witness to his bitter end.

Another rending pulse of pain, but it is muted this time. His field of vision narrows. He sighs his surrender as those eyes fade, as the blackness claims him. To rest. To lay down his burdens. At last.

_Yesssssss..._

A moment, just one moment, of sweet velvet blackness.

And then...light. Blinding light. He is standing. He can feel muscle and sinew, the stuff of his body coalescing around him. He is nude, but that is no great concern. Even as he thinks this he is clothed in the grey flannel pants and cotton tunic he wears in his chambers when he is blissfully alone.

He snorts at himself, amused that his subconscious would clothe his afterlife in this of all things. For he is not alone, is he? Walking towards him is...someone. The mists are not eager to yield their secrets. But there is red hair, much of it, and his suddenly stuttering mind provides the thought that perhaps this _is _hell, for it appears that he is being greeted by a blasted Weasley.

But it isn't a Weasley. He can see that now. It is _her_. He can see her features now. They are alive. Her eyes no longer staring blindly, her face no longer frozen in the rictus of death. The woman who ripped his heart and his life into two. The woman he killed. His sin. His repentance. His always.

His Lily.

Did he say the hallowed name aloud? Or did his mind simply scream it silently? His being is suffused with a confused potion of love, hatred and abysmal grief.

She has reached him, and he has thrown himself to his knees before her, wrapping his long arms around her legs. He is sobbing. The acerbic voice in his brain points out that after seventeen tearless years he is now crying for the second time in one day. But the voice is barely noticed before it too is carried away. He is howling in agony, like a feral creature with a leg caught in a trap. Howling into the sweet firm pillar of Lily's legs.

_Lily. Oh Lily. _

_Sweet gods it hurts. _

Nagini's venom is nothing compared to this agony. So long sublimated, so long repressed. He knows his long fingers are digging into her flesh, bruising the meat of her legs. But he is helpless, flattened and his claw-like fingers will not answer his commands to release her.

He had always suspected that if he started crying he would never be able to stop. This is to be his afterlife, then. Vomiting forth all of the emotion he withheld on Earth. How positively Dickensian.

After an endless time, or maybe a moment, he shudders, and forces his lungs to expand. It must be an illusion. Surely there are no lungs, and no air to fill them with, here. But the movement is comforting, and he repeats it, and after several repetitions he recognizes that the storm is passing, for now at least.

As he calms, he can feel the warmth of her beloved hands soothing the bent crown of his head, which is pressed against the softness of her belly. He is struck, suddenly, by the miracle that has been granted him. A chance. A chance to hold her. A chance to be with her. A chance to tell her...everything.

He must speak to her, say something. Who knows how long this moment, this gift will last?

When he speaks, his sonorous voice is rusty with tears.

"Lily," he says, releasing his strangle hold on her legs so he can look up into her face, "I...am...so...sorry."

He begins to weep again. She folds down to the ground so that her eyes are level with his, and presses a cool hand to each of his tear-stained cheeks. And she smiles.

_Merlin. That smile._ As it ever did, it fills him. Makes him feel worthy, and real, and, almost, clean.

"Oh, Severus."

He reaches for her hand, feels the fingers slip deftly between his. Remembers the time when holding this hand was a privilege uniquely his. Shakes his head sadly.

"I killed you, Lily."

At this, she tips back her head and laughs.

"Oh, Severus. What rubbish. You didn't kill me. The universe is very exact about these matters, and the bill for that crime is not to be served to you, my dear friend. There are others who will be settling that score."

_Dear friend? _Once he was. But she speaks it as if it is, even now, still true.

As if reading his heart, she answers, her eyes suddenly sad.

"You were always my friend, Severus. We were only children when we fought. You were wounded, and I was too naive to see your pain and too fearful to understand your anger. But the love I felt for you...Severus, it slept, but it never went away."

Silence. He holds her hand. Examines the contrast between the rose of her skin and the chalk of his. Lets her words fall like rain on to parched earth. Feels a block shift in his chest, a giant immovable stone being removed from his heart. She chose Potter. Yes. But she hadn't _forgotten _him. It was, almost, enough.

He can think of no words worth uttering. He settles for the utterly inadequate "Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me. You saved my son, Severus. You suffered, and fought, without any thought of your own happiness, so that others might live. I am to tell you that any debts that you owed in this life have been paid in full."

Again, he is weeping. But this time, they are tears not of agony, but of relief.

"Better?" She asks, pulling his head to her chest and caressing his hair.

He sighs, curls into her forgiveness like a weary child. "You have no idea."

SSSS

It is later. They are walking, hand in hand down a long white corridor.

"What is this place, Lily?" He asks, touching her hand with the pad of his thumb.

She shrugs.

"We call it the choosing place."

Finally emerging from the stunned cocoon of her presence, Severus' brain awakens from its slumber.

"Then I'm not dead?

She smiles. "Why no, you're not. You are very near death...but you are not dead yet."

"Then I may choose?"

Lily nods. "Many people get a choice. Most, well, they take the easier path." She grins. "But they are not you. What will you choose, I wonder."

He tightens his grip on her hand, uncertain. "Can I go with you, Lily? I know you are with Potter. But this time, I will tolerate him. I swear it. All I ask is to claim you as friend. To hold your hand now and again. Will he allow that? Will you?"

Lily laughs "Oh, Severus. You needn't worry about James. You and he were friends before this lifetime. And when this life's pain fades, you will be friends again. Besides, you saved our son, many times over. James loves you almost as much as I do."

Severus is amazed to discover that even in this not-place he has gorge enough to be nauseated by the idea of Potter's affection. He does his best to swallow it down.

Lily laughs even harder.

"Oh, Sev, the look on your face! If you decide to come with me you'll soon understand. The perspective... well, let's just say everything looks different from here. It's quite beautiful, and so much broader than our little human brains can grasp...But, as your friend, I ask you to consider the other option. There is more down there for you. Much more. You've had such a dark life, my friend. I want you to experience some lightness...laugh a little."

He makes a small sound of denial, and clutches her hand tighter. He would be cutting off her circulation now if such a thing were possible here. But she is marvelously unaffected by it. She smiles at him, and he can feel in his bones that she _means _it.

"After all, we will be here for you whenever you cross over. The other things...well, the chance to experience them in this incarnation is pretty much a one shot offer."

Lifetimes. Incarnations. Offers of happiness. He feels panic stirring within his chest. He dosen't want this.

"You can't mean for me to go back to that place, Lily. Please. Don't ask it of me. " He is weeping again. "I don't want to fight anymore. I can't fight anymore. I am so very very tired."

Those beloved arms are around him. Soothing him. Wrapping him in comfort.

"Shhhh...Your fighting days can be over if you want them to be. The war will be over before you could possibly rejoin it. And besides, I think you won't be so weary now. Life is much easier when your heart is whole, and the only master you serve is yourself."

To serve no master but himself. To walk the earth with his heart whole in his chest. How would that feel? What would it be like to walk under the sun's glare and be worthy of its light?

She embraces him, gazes at him radiantly.

"I am so proud of you my Severus."

Her beloved face begins to fade.

"But I haven't made my choice yet!" He shouts, reaches for her.

His fingers pass through her like smoke. He hears her reply, faint, but full of warm laughter.

"Haven't you?"

End Chapter One

Author's Notes: I was tremendously moved by Alan Rickman's portrayal of Snape's death. I found myself wishing that JKR had created a King's cross station for _him._ Then I began to wonder, what if Snape went to King's Cross and received absolution? And what if he actually accepted that forgiveness? What would life be like for Snape without the self-loathing he has carried around his entire life? What would he do? Who would he be?

And, of course, how would that Snape love Hermione?

Hence, this story. Let's find out!

Best,

Theolyn

Due to a mistake I made in uploading, I must now put Chapter two here. Sorry!

Chapter Two: Heal Thyself

Severus Snape wakes just as the door to the boathouse slams shut. Through the frosted glass he can see the blurred figures of Harry Potter and his friends skulking off to rejoin the battle. An instant, then, only an instant passed in that place between places. An instant and an eternity. Amazing.

Then, like a tidal wave, the pain slams back into his body. But what does he care? This pain is physical. This pain he can fight. Potionsmaster, heal thyself. Evaluate. Repair. Survive.

The venom is burning him. Corroding his very veins, numbing as it goes. It must be addressed first. The slash at his throat is still pulsing blood, more slowly now. That is not good. He must act quickly.

Time. He has so little of it.

He had perfected the antidote to Nagini's venom years ago. It had seemed...prudent at the time, given his role as spy. But, of course, he does not have it now. Still, he has his wand. His right hand has closed around its smoothness. With his wand, he can do this. He focuses his will, visualizes his carefully ordered stores. Locates the distinctive blue bottle with the yellow seal. His ruined throat can make no sound but a sibilant whisper, but it will be enough. It has to be.

"Accio."

A moment. Then, the blue bottle slaps into his left palm. Relief roils into frustration when he realizes that he cannot lift the useless appendage to his lips. He notes, with vague surprise that he wants, quite desperately, to live.

He determines that he shall.

He uses the wand in his right hand to move his left to his mouth. Breaks the seal with his teeth. At least his hideous dentition is good for something. He will fix them, his teeth, as soon as he is free from this predicament.

He is shaking so badly that potion flies everywhere. But he manages to get some of it down his throat. Instantly the numbing recedes. This is a boon and a curse, for without the numbness,he regains some of his motor control, but those gains are offset by a new level of pain. This pain is _nothing_, he reminds himself, and procedes with his tasks.

He lifts his trembling arm to the wound at his throat. He seals the opening in the artery that was thankfully only nicked, not fully severed. He rests for a moment, then shakes himself alert. He cannot afford to drift off.

A second spell begins to repair the damage to his larynx. A third to hunt down and seal other auxilliary damage. Finally, he seals the muscles and the flesh sloppily, messily closed. It won't be pretty, but he believes that it will hold.

Now, he casts his thoughts back to his storeroom. It is like trying to think with molasses in his head. His thoughts keep getting stuck in strange places. Finally he finds a moment of clarity, and focuses his will upon the clear bottle with a red seal, two knots on the slender cord around the neck.

"Accio."

Feels the slap of blood replenisher in his hand. Lifts the vial, drinks it down.

That is better. He can think a bit more clearly now. Focus. Amber bottle, white seal.

"Accio."

Slap. Strength enhancer.

Now focusing is easy. He summons the purple bottle, round cork. A restorative. He will need it to augment his measly current stores of energy. Slap.

He considers. Decides that given how much antivenom is sloshed around his face and chest, a second full dose might be prudent. He summons it, and chokes the vile liquid down. That he is registering the taste at all strikes him as a good sign. For the first time, he believes he actually may survive to leave this boathouse on his own power.

Now there is nothing more that he can do but rest, give the magic in his potions time to work. Yes, rest. It sounds so seductive at this moment. He slides down the wall of the boathouse, reclines into the rusty pool of his own congealing blood.

His eyes are scratchy and dry. Closing his eyelids takes many seconds, but once it is accomplished, the darkness is blissfull.

As he waits for slumber to claim him, he is aware of the restful sound of water slapping against the is a peaceful sound, rythmic. Water. Perhaps he will go near the water now. Then, as he nears the very edges of wakefulness, he hears the counterpoint. Irregular, sometimes booming. The distant sounds of battle. It is with grim satisfaction that he notes no drive to join in the fight, and only vague interest in the outcome.

_This war, _he says to himself as he drifts away, _is no longer mine_.

SSSS

He is awakened sometime later by a single sharp sensation from the dark mark, and is instantly alert. The sounds of battle have ended. The meaning behind this becomes clear when he looks down at his forearm. He senses no tether. The mark is dead. It is now only a scar, a relic. For almost twenty years he has been bound to that hideous creature, tied to his master like a beaten cur. That chain is now broken.

I. Am. Free.

The thought rises up in his heart. It is too big to grasp, but he lets its boyancy levy him through the arduous task of rising to his feet. For he knows, with the certainty that he knows anything, that Potter will have seen his memories in the pensieve. If he lives, the chosen one will feel compelled to retrieve his body, honor it. He must be gone by then.

Apparating in this state is a risk, it's true. But it is a risk for his own benefit. He stands for a moment on tremulous limbs and savors the _difference_ in that. Then, drawing his thick woolen cloak around him for warmth, Severus Snape apparates away.

End, Chapter Two


	2. Ancient Waters

Chapter Three: Ancient Waters

Severus Snape loped, barefoot, beside the sapphire sea. It was long his habit to run at dawn, to be out in the air before the heat set in, to pass the squid boats as the fishermen returned from their night's labors. It was his privilege to start his day in that between-time, as some were moving to rest and others just waking, as the night was yielding to the day.

As he well knew, great beauty often rested in the spaces inbetween.

It was a privilege, too to move this body, push it, ask from it, receive its response. Though he had always kept himself fit, for to become weak was to die, it was now with pleasure that he extended, tested, grew stronger. Not for combat, though he would be ready should that come again, but moreso just because his body was there. Because to feel the body's pleasures and pains was precious to him. Because those pleasures and pains were the stuff of life.

It had been twenty years since he'd begun his life here, and still, he found himself surprised by the simple joy of freedom.

He pushed his speed as he ran up the steep path to his cliffside cottage. He reached the crest just as the sun moved above the village rooftops, exploding amber light onto the whitewashed walls. It was his favorite moment of the day. His body heaved with effort, his lungs gasped for air, sweat stung his eyes. He looked over the momentarily violent beauty of his home with gratitude.

_Thank you Lily. Thank you for my life. _

SSSS

At first, it had been...odd to move about the world incognito. When he arrived in the village, there had been no expectations of him, only the avid curiosity of a small community with a newly arrived stranger in its midst, a stranger who intends to stay. There had been some wariness, for who came to Arki but daytripping tourists in August? But there had been no revulsion in their eyes. Once he had revealed himself to be a scholar, he was viewed even more positively. Strangers had smiled at him, over time warmed to him, invited him in to their homes for simple meals. Children had ignored him, and then waited expectantly for him to return the balls that had rolled to his feet. Over time, he had simply become one of the island's dramatis personae, the strange pale man who lived with his books on top of the hill.

When he had bought this simple cottage years before, he had had little expectation of surviving the war, much less ever making his way to its peaceful setting. But he had planned carefully for the possibility, nonetheless. Using a variety of untraceable intermediaries, he had purchased this small plot of land, with its clean, spare dwelling, sight unseen. At the time, its location on a cliff top seemed a wise tactical advantage. His modest savings, removed to a muggle bank in Switzerland, were sufficient to provide him with a comfortable existence. Thankfully, he had planned well, for though he hadn't expected to survive, survive he had.

On this tiny island, with this simple life, he suspected his monetary assets might even outlive him. He had already decided that any legacy he left behind would go to Lily's grandchildren. James. Shudder. Had Potter chosen the name just to torture him? And Albus Severus. He snorted aloud. Who would saddle an helpless infant with a name like that? At least in providing amusement the legendary Gryffindor sense of justice never failed to deliver.

Pompous moniker or not, Lily's blood flowed through Potter's get, and that, in itself, was reason enough for his worldly possessions to go to them despite the vague nausea he still felt in considering the chosen one. It was knee jerk, really. For in saving the spectacled menace he had won this life for himself, and that, if nothing else, should earn him a bit more tolerance. But some habits were simply too ingrained to break.

Like reading the Daily Prophet, for instance. It was a rag, of course. Barely even journalism. He had rarely read it in his former life, but here? He read it compulsively. He knew it was complete indulgence to have it sent here. Once again he used a series of intermediaries, the net result of which was a monthly shipment that arrived via muggle post in a heavy cardboard box several months after publication.

But arrive, it did, allowing him enough of a glimpse into the goings-on in the magical world to assuage his vague but persistent curiosity. It was through this rag that he learned the details of the final battle. If he smirked to read of Naginis ignominious defeat at the hands of Longbottom of all people, well, given the scars that encircled his throat like a macabre necklace, that was within his rights.

It was in this rag that he read Potter's passionate, (and tearful, if the picture of Potter at the pensive was to be believed) exoneration of his person. When he'd read it, when he'd seen that his most private, most cherished, and most reviled secrets were splayed about in public for the world to read, he had waited for the bitterness, waited for the sweet dark emotion to wash over him. But it never came. At worst, he felt mild contempt. Damned Gryffindors. Couldn't see real injustice when it spat in their faces, but determined to correct the _appearance _of injustice at all costs. Oh, well, what did it matter anyway? That Severus Snape had died in a pool of tacky blood and bitter venom. This Severus Snape? He ate eggplant, and goat, and fish pulled fresh from the sea. He lived in a home drenched in sunlight and perfumed with the tang of the ocean.

Still, he was heartily amused to witness the meteoric shift Potter's revelations brought about in his image. Severus Snape, reviled murderer of Wizardkind's most beloved White Wizard, became Severus Snape, Dumbledore's right hand man, and most celebrated martyr of Voldemort's reign. He'd been tempted, almost, to order Rita Skeeter's "Misunderstood Bat of the Dungeons," purely for its entertainment value, but given the complications of processing such an order discretely, as well as the shite-to-substance ratio of her previous tomes he had ultimately decided against the exercise. Some things, perhaps, were better left unknown.

He was, however, absurdly touched to read that Minerva had collected his posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class. She had been the closest thing to a friend that he had had at Hogwarts, and she was the last person to lose faith in him. Her tribute to him...well, it moved him to see her remember him fondly. According to the Prophet, she collected his award and had it hung in the headmasters gallery at Hogwarts, in lieu of the portrait that rather stubbornly failed to materialize. (And wouldn't materialize for many years to come, if he had his way about it.)

That missing portrait, combined with the never-mentioned disappearance of his body, should have caused a furor of is-he-dead-or-isn't he rumors and Severus Snape sightings. But the paper remained adamant that Severus Snape had shucked off this mortal coil, and for that, he was truly grateful.

SSSS

Though the golden trio's truly newsworthy days were over, it gave him some satisfaction over the years to follow the details of their lives, which the Prophet religiously reported. The engagements. The professional choices. The marriages. The births. The very ordinariness of it gave him quiet pride. These lives they lived would not have been without him. In some small way, though he would never admit it, he considered the continued existence of those three dunderheads one of his life's better accomplishments.

And so it was with detatched regret that he read Ronald Weasley's obituary, three months after the date of his death. It did not engender grief, though the emotion he felt was tinged with sadness. But he noted with some interest that the event felt somehow _important_ to him. A milestone of some kind. Who knew why? But it felt to him as if it should be marked somehow.

That evening, as he watched the sun set over the Eastern Aegean sea, he made a point of toasting the red dunderhead.

_May you find life beyond the veil to be as satisfying as I have been promised it will be...and may whomever they send to greet you be greatly beloved by you. _

_Travel Well._

He lifted his glass of Ouzo to the obstreperous sky, and quietly tipped it back.

End Chapter Three

AN: I have never been to Greece, much less to Arki, which is considered one of the more remote Greek islands. But the raw beauty and historical significance of Greece made it a likely retreat for our hero. So I'm taking a chance and doing my best to set this is on a real island, to which I have never been. In order to do that, I will need to make a few adjustments to reality here and there. To the residents of Arki, it is my intent to honor your island...please forgive me if I distort aspects of it from time to time.

If any of you have direct experience with Greece, and wish to provide me with insights into Greek life that I can work into the story, I would be most grateful.


	3. Promises

Chapter Four

Hermione Weasley placed one last summer weight tee shirt into her new suitcase and zipped it closed. There. She was as packed as she would ever be. She sighed and sad down on her bed.

Two years previous, she and Ron had lain, cuddling and laughing and crying together on this very bed, talking about what Hermione's sex life would be like after he was gone.

"Ralph, the guy in the department of mysteries?"

Hermione grimaced. "No way. Too beefy. Ew."

"Uh," he furrowed his pale brow, "How bout Dean. Ginny says he's got skills."

"Yeah, but he's engaged now. He's out."

Ron coughed a bit, considered.

"Seamus?"

"Double Ew. No!"

"Hey! What's wrong with Seamus? He seems like a good looking bloke."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then you shag him!"

Ron threw his skinny arms in the air, exasperated. "I never knew you were so picky! How on earth did you ever choose me?"

Hermione smiled. "I have an eye for quality."

He snorted. "There's no accounting for taste. Okay, no no one we know then."

"Right. Now it's getting late. We can pick up this rubbish when you wake up."

She got up, smoothed the sheets, then smoothed his sweaty strawberry locks away from his forehead.

"Your fever's broken. That's got to feel better. Try to rest now, baby."

"I've got it!" he said, ignoring her nursing. "You could go somewhere fancy. The Greek Islands. Whitweashed villages, pretty seas. Yeah." His eyes looked dreamy for a moment, as if he could see it even now. "Go to Greece, 'Mione," he said his voice slurring. "Take a cruise. See the sights. Pick up a different bloke in every port."

She remembered laughing out loud at that one.

"Like that's going to happen. Enough of this. Rest, Ron. Please?" But Ron was not to be deterred. He grabbed her hand.

"I mean it! Go to Greece. Do it on the sand, in the sunlight. Pick a big tanned bloke with a giant nob. Oy! No hitting the dying guy!" He rubbed his arm where she'd gently punched him. His thin, flushed face suddenly sobered. "It's not your life that's ending. 'Mione. Remember that. I want you to live. Go to Greece. Shag a greek god or two for me."

Hermione sighed. "If I promise, will you rest?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Will you take that shirt off and lay down next to me?"

She had a million things to do. And she'd been counting on getting at least the top four items on her list completed during his nap. But nothing was more important than this. So Hermione took off her shirt and her bra and slid into bed.

She kissed her husband softly on the lips. Though his body was beyond the ability to do more, he still liked her closeness whenever he could have it.

"You," she said, snuggling next to him, "are such a fiend."

He grinned. "To my dying day!"

As she lay there, listening to the sounds of his sleep, her bare skin pressed against his rapidly wasting flesh, she thought over the conversation. It had been gallows humour, all of it; they both knew that. But the sentiment, that he loved her enough to want her life to go on...that had been real. Wrapping her top arm around him, and gently holding on, Hermione, let silent tears leak down her face. She was losing him. But at least she had had him. That made her the luckiest woman on Earth.

He was gone less than a week later.

SSSSS

The next two years were like navigating near a fire. At first, she was so blinded by the smoke that she couldn't see anything else. Her best friend, her lover, her Ron was dead. She wanted to lie down and let the flesh melt off until she died too.

But she was a mother, and she knew her children were suffering. It was the desire to help them that kept her putting one foot in front of the other, moving away from the flames of loss.

It wasn't easy, but with every step she took the air cleared just a little more. At first, she could see only Rose and Hugo. The three of them huddled together, doing their best to help each other keep moving. Then after a few months, Harry and Ginny reappeared to her sight. Then a few weeks later, she saw her mum and dad and their palpable worry for her. Then the rest of the Weasleys began to pop into view, one by one.

Then next thing to reappear was her work. It centered her, gave her a new purpose upon which to focus. Then, gradually, she began to sea beauty again. And though it was painful to witness without Ron, she also found pleasure in a sunset, or the scent of her garden after a good rain.

Sometime around the end of the first year, she began to occaisionally go an entire day without weeping. A few months after that, she was navigating entire weeks without a crying jag. She wasn't missing Ron any less, but the_ wrongness_ of it all was fading. Being alive without him was becoming normal.

And so, by the time the wizarding world's customary two year mourning period came to an end, she felt brokenhearted, but human. She put away her widow's weeds, and resolved to research a trip to Greece at once. Not that she planned to take a lover in every port, mind you. She just wanted to keep her final promise to her funny, goofy, devoted husband.

Since her fame in the wizarding world showed no signs of abating, she decided to forgoe any wizarding trips. For this trip, at least, she wanted a chance to blend, to disappear whenever she wanted to. No reporters, no autographs. Just a normal woman, traveling alone.

Also, she wanted a tour with lectures and learning opportunities rather than nightclubs and beaches. The Smithsonian Institute's three week long "Major Sites on Minor Islands" cruise seemed just the ticket. A boat full of American pensioneer history buffs...perfect. She would be unknown, unmolested, cruising the Aegean. And she'd be alone. She sighed. Well, that part couldn't be helped.

Maybe she should take a lover while she was there.

Listen to her! Take a lover. Ha! She only wished she were so...cosmopolitan. Truth was, there'd been no one but Ron her entire life. The only other person she'd ever even kissed had been Viktor, and that had been more of a dunking in saliva than an erotic experience. At least Ginny had sampled a few other fruit before biting into Harry. As for herself, she feared she wouldn't even know what to do with another man.

Did they even have redheads in Greece? Probably pretty few. She wondered what Greek men would look like, and instantly pictured a hirsute bear of a man lounging about in an orange speedo. Oh, Gods! What would she do with all that black body hair? Ugh. Thank gods she was taking a holiday; she was obviously going around the bend.

Did it show, she wondered? She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked mostly sane. Well, those dark shadows under her eyes were a bit scary. And she was still a bit too thin. But she was handsome enough, she supposed. Especially now that she'd mastered smoothing her hair down. Unless she was brewing of course; had to remove the smoothing spell lest it mess with the potion. But, she reminded herself, she wouldn't be brewing on the cruise ship. She could smoothe her hair every day, and see if she couldn't find the courage to flirt with a bloke or two.

Who was she kidding? Hermione dropped her head to the surface of her dresser, and gently banged it up and down. She just wasn't ready for this stuff. Better stick with history, Hermione, something you know you can master. You are going to see some pretty things, read about myths and wars, and have a nice time. It's okay to leave the conquering of the natives to braver travellers.

With that thought, Hermione Weasley grabbed her suitcase, and moved purposefully for the door.

End Chapter Four

AN: Just want to point out that I have nothing against Greeks (actually think they are pretty darned hot, personally!) or black body hair on a man. Blond, Redheaded, Brunette, Pale, Dark, Hairy, Smooth... I'm a bit like Ginny, I like 'em all! But my Hermione, whose entire sexual experience is based upon a ginger aesthetic, is a bit more squeamish about it. Cut her some slack...she is going to get over it!

And while I'm on my soapbox, in this chapter I mentioned the amount of time it takes to come to peace with a major loss as two years which is far more realistic than the American one-year convention. Grief is hard. Damned hard. And it takes a long time. While I don't expect to write much about it in this story, it is a major feature in "Enough" my HG/GW fic. Check it out if you want to learn more!

And finally, thank you to those of you who have been sending reviews. Several of my favorites have been "unsigned" though, which means I can't respond to you directly. So just know that it means a lot to me to have you as co-conspirators in this process.

The rest of you, send me your Greek tidbits! And I'll take personality quirk requests too, if you have one!

Best,

Theolyn


	4. This Daily Life

Chapter Five: This Daily Life

After his run and a dose of the Daily Prophet, Severus retreated to his laboratory. He came down here to brew for his needs as well as the needs of others in his community. His "medicinal teas" (which he purposefully weakened so their efficacy wouldn't be too remarkable) had gained quite a following on-island. As Arki had no resident doctor, he was turned to for everything from flus to headaches to labor pains. The activity gave him a role in the community beyond being the eccentric scholar, and allowed him to continue to practice his trade, albeit in a limited fashion. The villagers compensated him with gifts of homemade cheeses, haunches of goat meat, and octopus pulled fresh from the sea. He found the arrangement most satisfactory.

His full strength potions, well, he distributed them only judiciously, and usually in such a way that the islander didn't even know they had consumed one. This sneaky exercise, he felt, enabled him to retain his identity as a son of Slytherin, albeit in a limited capacity. He was particularly proud of the gout cure he had slipped the itinerant priest. Father Vicente was a Spanish Jesuit, suspicious, and sharp as dagger, making the exercise of slipping a vial of lemon-flavored potion into his Avoglemono pleasantly difficult.

From time to time, Snape brewed more complicated potions, potions he knew would never be used, simply to keep his skills sharp. The fruits of those labors lined the shelves of his storeroom, quietly gathering dust. No matter. It was the doing that mattered, not the product.

One never knew when such skills would once again become necessary. But if he was honest with himself, the truth was he enjoyed these old disciplines. The ritual of performing them gave a familiar structure to his days. And structure, in this simple life, was everything.

After brewing, Severus returned to the main level of his house to perform his daily ablutions. First, a long, refreshing shower. Since his arrival on the island, he'd taken to manufacturing his own soaps and shampoos. He found the natural scents he added much more pleasant than the artificial perfumes of the products that came via ferry once a month.

After the shower, his teeth. He had followed through on his promise to himself to fix them the very day after the debacle in the boathouse. It had been a simple thing, really, knocking them out and re-growing them in an orderly fashion. Painful, yes, but given what he'd just been through, it barely registered. What did register was the fact that these teeth had never belonged to THAT Snape. That Snape had held on to his hideous teeth to keep others away. This Snape practiced good dental hygiene.

Skin, hair, and teeth clean, he clothed himself in his habitual white linen pants and shirt. At first the outfit had made him feel a bit like Xenophilious Lovegood, but with time, he had ceased to miss his severe coat and cloak. Instead, he learned to appreciate the sensual pleasure of breezes traversing the fine light fabric and caressing his skin.

Next, he swallowed his daily dose of Sun Tolerance, which prevented burning and allowed even his alabaster skin to gain a faint golden color.

Finally, he renewed the glamour that kept the ropy scars on his neck hidden from view. Not that he minded them, really. He considered them a small price to pay for his resultant happiness. But they were conspicuous, and the entire point of his life here was not to be so, and hence, he kept them hidden from view.

Potion taken, ablutions complete, Severus Snape went out to take his place in the world.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It had taken a few years to figure it out, but now he had it to a science. He could break his fast alone for three, maybe four days at a stretch. Any longer, and Mama Alevizos would come knocking, and she wouldn't be pleasant about it. Hell hath no fury like a Greek matriarch scorned.

It was simpler really, to join her at her table every third day. Share a bowl of Trahana, a slice of goatsmilk cheese, some honeycomb, a cup or two of oregano tea. On special occasions, like the anniversary of his arrival on the island (a day she never failed to celebrate) she would lift a couple of still-warm eggs from the spoiled hens who pecked around in her yard, and serve the yolks to him raw, mixed with copious sugar and spread over a rusk of homemade bread.

Though he'd assured her many times to the contrary, Mama Alevizos was convinced that Severus was eternally teetering on the verge of starvation. He should run less and eat more. Then they would go together to a neighboring island, and bring home a good Greek girl to feed him further, and give him babies, instead of picking up occasional tourists who were too skinny themselves and would be gone the next day.

Twenty years in to their relationship, Severus was finally at peace, both with the old woman's mothering, and her ranting about the nature of his sex life. Though she lived at the base of the hill, Mama Alevizos had essentially come with his home, a feature that had not been advertised when he first purchased it from her. The cottage had once belonged to Abrax Alevisoz, before a storm on the Aegean ended his young life. Mama had taken Snape's arrival, a lone, weary man for her to nurture, as a consolation prize from her god for the loss of her son. And, as she'd made repeatedly clear, she fully expected that consolation prize to deliver grandchildren before she went to her rest.

Severus smiled to himself. Failure to provide offspring aside, it humbled him how obvious the woman was in her affection. This caring for, and being cared for by someone who only wanted your love in return, was yet another of this life's sweet surprises. The minor annoyances and intrusions she wrought upon his peace and privacy were a small price to pay to see the light flow into her aging eyes.

In the afternoons, Severus could often be found at the village library, writing at the old, scarred table or wandering among the stacks, perusing the shelves. Books here fell into two camps, modern muggle pulp, of which he had consumed several, and beautiful old tomes that should long ago have been removed to a less corrosive climate. He was glad that they hadn't been. Their presence here had not only provided him with a cover for his assumed identity, but also with pleasure and occupation.

While a faint British accent still lingered over his spoken Greek, the books here had been sufficient to perfect his written mastery of the language. He was currently savoring his way through the process of translating Homer's Odyssey into modern English, despite the fact that the library contained two English translations already. He wanted one that was his own. Finding the right word, the right idiom, to fully express his vision of the author's intent was a soothing intellectual exercise, and one he anticipated would take him several years to complete.

Theodoro, aging librarian and Severus's primary chess partner, lay napping in his chair, just as he did most afternoons. Severus wondered, not for the first time, how such a large man could spend ninety minutes each day sleeping in a tipped back chair without losing his balance and snapping the chair like kindling. Initially, he had wondered if Tedo was just mimicking sleep…but after years of observing the man, he had concluded that the sleep was real, despite the acrobatics involved in the position.

Tedo was a man of many contradictions, making their association very much like the one he'd had with Albus. As with Albus, the two spent most of their time debating their various viewpoints on a broad variety of issues. With each other they could be surly and rude, without fear of offense, or spend hours together, each engaged in his own pursuits without speaking. Severus enjoyed pitting his wits against the old Greek, despite the fact that more often than not, such contests ended in what could only be described as a draw.

At present, Snape was wondering at which point Theodoro would notice the gradually improving condition of the library's older books. A judicious and subtle reparo was at work, one Snape had modified to mend the texts so slowly as to be practically unnoticeable. It was a tricky bit of magic, as the emphasis was not upon the books looking better, for he had no desire to remove the beautiful patina of age, (except in the those instances where age obscured the print… that was immediately remedied.) Instead, the magic focused upon making brittle pages more resilient, reinforcing weak spines, repairing the rents busy silverfish had eaten in the soft wood pulp.

It was a slow subtle process, but Theodoro knew his books. And though he had seen many many sunsets, and tipped back more than his share of Ouzo, Theodoro had the flexible, learned brain of a man who had spent most of those sunsets reading everything upon which he could lay his hands. Lately Snape had caught Tedo staring at him several times as if figuring a cipher in his vast convoluted brain. Severus chuckled. Let him ponder it. Someday, he might just let him in on his little secret.

What would that be like, he wondered. To have another human being understand him in his entirety. To a certain extent the people here knew him better than anyone had before, and yet, without knowing his magic, they were only strangers. Even Mama Alevizos knew nothing of who he really was. It…rankled. Not enough to change it, for certainly the complications of such an action would be disproportionate to the ease such a revelation might bring. Still, he thought of the freedom to be honest with someone with longing.

Perhaps Tedo would be the one to discover him. At any rate, it pleased Severus to work his magic for the old man. Just as it pleased him to slip him potions that alleviated the worst of Tedo's age-related complaints. Making an arthritis potion that blended well with Ouzo...now that had been a week's delicious challenge.

That was the other difficulty in his present life...finding challenges. Intellectually, the translation work provided sufficient stimulation. Physically, the island's terrain and the open ocean were a fine and ever shifting proving ground. Socially, well, the mere exercise of existing as a member of a tight community was rife with opportunities for learning. But magically? He was often at a loss. Though he lived in terror of atrophy, it was becoming harder and harder to find avenues of growth in that area.

When a magical challenge presented itself, he grabbed it with both hands, and pursued his inquiry with great vigor.

It was during these times that his life felt most complete.

At present, he had stumbled upon just such an exercise, and he felt himself absurdly stimulated. The island was currently suffering from a rather dramatic decline in seafood yields. He suspected there was nothing for it, overfishing was overfishing, and could not be remedied by magical means. But he had decided to run diagnostics nonetheless. If there was a magical nudge to be applied, a way to make life that much easier for those who pulled their livings from these waters, then he would find it.

And when he did, there would be no one with whom he could share his triumph.

End Chapter 5

AN: Hello dear readers! I know you're out there, for you leave such lovely reviews! BUT WHERE ARE MY REQUESTS? Seriously people! I know you guys have your own little quirks you'd like our heros to have. Example: Snape should play volleyball, or Hermione should have studied Aikido etc… I can't promise I'll use them all, but I LOVE the challenge of working in that kind of detail. Furthermore those little things often add great depth to the characters. So send 'em in.

A final note, on timing…Next chapter, we will check in with Hermione's cruise, and after that, our two future lovers will re-encounter each other. Thank you for your patience in getting to that point. I've enjoyed my time alone on the island with Severus…but he needs more now, doesn't he?

Theolyn


	5. Strum

Chapter Six: Strum

Hermione could feel the layers of tension sliding off her skin with each subsequent day of her vacation. By day, she traveled sun-drenched coasts, climbed rugged hills, breathed in air that was sweet with the scent of olive trees. She saw beautiful ruins, felt history's passage like a delicious pressure against her skin. She ate good food, regaining three of the eight pounds that had stubbornly refused to return after Ron's death. In the evening, she chatted with her co-travelers, attended lectures, watched sunset from the upper deck of her boat, drinking in Greek wine and salt air. At night, she slipped her tired body into a soft bed that held no memories for her but those she had made for herself.

It had all been good, profoundly good for her. She felt...almost...alive.

And if there had been no affairs with beautiful Greek men, well, she was certain that Ron would have forgiven her.

Though she'd enjoyed it all, she couldn't say she was sorry the trip was ending, for she was itching to get back to her work. It would come too late for Ron, of course, but Hermione was determined that no other family suffer as they had. Wizard's cancer had a cure...it had to. She was determined to find it. She felt invigorated, and energize to re-engage in her task.

But, that could wait, would have to wait a few more days. For now, there was still one last port of call. Patmos, site of the 11th century Monastery of St John's, would be the most remote site they'd visited yet. But it wasn't remote enough. Hermione didn't want to spend her last day of this trip bumping elbows with fellow tourists at another site of historic interest. Instead, she was seriously considering ditching her tour, hopping a ferry, and spending her day on one of the remote outer islands in this area, a place were she could actually glimpse behind the veil of tourism, into the lives of real islanders, and maybe find a little beach to have all to herself.

There were several nearby islands to chose from, but at this point she was leaning more towards the island of Arki, population 41, which was reputed to have a breathtaking beach that was a full hour's walk from town cross-country. She would pack water and a simple lunch, and meander her way to a private slice of paradise.

Upon her return, she would take a meal at one of the three island tavernas, maybe have a chat with a local or two, try whatever variation on goats-and-seafood this island was serving, watch a gorgeous sunset, and grab a ferry back with plenty of time before her ship's departure. A little soliltude, some uninterrupted beauty, and the mild adventure of straying from the beaten path. Hermione sighed with contentment. It sounded just right.

SSSS

As always when he was sufficiently challenged, Severus was having a good day. He was floating here, in this tranquil bay, performing his latest set of diagnostics. The water's salt content wasn't quite high enough to compensate for his dense muscle mass, so a minor spell made sure that he was able to float with ease. Then, with the ocean warm about his skin, he sent out a pulse of magic, and waited, eyes closed, in a state of calm repose for the response to return.

In the interim, he allowed himself the pleasure of relaxing, and listening to the liquid resonance of the ocean.

SSSS

She felt it the moment her scarred boots hit the island of Arki. The thrum of magic. Not the old magics of dryads and hydras. Those magics were everywhere in Greece. This felt like new magic. And not the multi-textured new magic of the small, diverse magical community she'd discovered in her three days in Athens. This was singular. This had the feel of a single witch or wizard. And a bloody powerful one at that.

Hermione was at once intrigued, and wary. For though Harry and his fellow aurors had spent years rounding up death eaters from their hidey-holes, a few of the worst criminals were still at large, and more often than not, when found, they were found in small remote areas like this one.

Not that this magic felt dark, mind you. But it didn't feel light either. And with that much power behind it, it probably behooved her to be cautious. Placing her wand in an easily accessible position, Hermione Granger lifted her backpack up on to her sholders and pointed her hiking boots south towards Tiganakia beach.

ssss

The beach was everything she had hoped for. Dozens of little islands sprouted within swimming distance, creating a sheltered bay. The smallest islands were covered in scrub, with the largest sporting an olive tree or two, and all of them, like the shore, were encircled with gleaming sand and water-smoothed pebbles. The water was turquoise, undisturbed, and breathtaking.

And it was all hers…well almost all hers. She was alone on this stretch of paradise, save for a loan male swimmer, who was floating peacefully many yards off shore. Oh, well, she supposed there was enough beauty for the both of them.

Hermione unloaded the contents of her backpack. A beach towel. A sandwich and crisps. A little tub of ripe olives she'd purchased on her last land excursion. A couple of individually wrapped Kourambiethes, a thermos of tea, and a magically cooled bottle of water, rounded out her little feast. She was just removing her hiking boots from her hot feet, when she felt it again.

A pulse of magic. And it was CLOSE. Very close. Subtle, and...sensual. A ripple of magic so very beautiful that it was almost like an arpeggio running over the surface of her senses. She looked around. The swimmer. It had to be. She had to know. Hermione tightened her grip on her wand.

Later, she wouldn't be able to describe why she did what she did, for it was certainly an abrupt and uncomfortable way to gain the wizard's attention. But it was an impulse she hadn't been able to curb. She wanted to touch that magic, strum it herself.

And so, she reached out and plucked at the spell with a touch of her magic.

The resultant chord was so discordant that she reflexively slammed both hands to her ears, just as the swimmer lunged to his feet in what was obviously a very shallow bay.

Hermione's first thought was, Oh, so that's what an Angry Greek God looks like, as he began to stride purposefully towards her, water sluicing down his toned body. Her second thought was a bit less reverential, for though the body was a surprise, the face on top of it was even more so. Unless she had truly gone around the bend, the man with the gorgeous body who was currently _stalking_ towards her was none other than the late great hero of Wizardom, Professor Severus Snape.

SSSS

Mmmmm….he thought, as he received his latest feedback. There was overfishing yes, but another problem, a spawning ground disturbed by some man-made contrivance. He sent out another burst of magic, to see if he could narrow down the …

…and he felt his magic being touched my a powerful and deft hand.

Severus lept to his feet, his wand at the ready. His excitement to encounter another's magic after so long was quickly overrun by the outrage that someone would dare do something so rude as to _strum_ it. Wand at the ready, he stalked irately towards the perpetrator of this rudeness, a petite witch who was staring, mouth gaping, at his person.

Though the years had changed her, and she'd done something dreadful to her hair, he was only halfway to shore when he recognized his assailant. Granger. Of course.

End Chapter Six

AN: Thank you so much to everyone who posted reviews, particularly those that placed requests. Keep 'em coming.


	6. Apologies

She was gaping. She knew she was. But she was standing face-to- ,er, chest with Severus Snape. He was obviously very much alive. She tilted her head up, away from all that golden skin, to look into his admittedly furious face. His eyebrows drew together as he caught her eyes.

"That…" he drawled, "was insupportably rude, "Mrs. Weasley."

"You're alive?"

"Apparently." He brushed past her, and began walking purposefully towards his own small rucksack.

Hermione followed behind him. "You're alive."

Severus sighed, as he dug out his shirt. "Yes, we've established that. What we haven't established is by what right you interfered so rudely in my magic." He slid the sheer fabric over his arms and deftly buttoned the material closed.

Suddenly aware that she was staring at the shrinking view of his chest, Hermione blinked. "No right. No right at all. I knew I shouldn't. I just couldn't stop myself…The magic was just so beautiful, I had to touch it."

Later on, he would reflect that it was that one word that changed everything. Beautiful. Over all the years of his magical life, he had been complimented for his skill, for his power, for his problem solving. But it had always shocked him that no one else seemed to notice how_ beautiful_ his magic was. To him the difference had always been noticeable…there was a grace to his magic, a perfect simplicity. It was undeniable. But no one else, not even Tom at his most seductive, had ever remarked upon it.

He felt his outrage leak out of him like a punctured balloon. Besides, maintaining outrage in the face of such cluelessness simply required too much emotional energy. He just didn't care enough to keep it up. But he maintained a stern countenance anyway; in her company he found it easy to resume his pedagogical mannerisms.

"Be that as it may, your actions were foolhardy. You are lucky indeed that I was in a good mood. Otherwise, you," he gestured with his wand, "might be the one dead now."

"You're right of course. It was stupid. But you're alive."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley. For someone reputedly the brightest witch of her age, you seem quite unwilling to adjust to what is plainly true. I am in fact alive, and now that my day's work is ruined, I am also hungry. I bid you adieu."

Hermione, suddenly shaken from her stupor, began to laugh and scamper about joyfully. He might have pointed out that such jumping up and down was not appropriate behavior for a woman grown, but what would be the point? If she felt the need to devolve into giddy schoolgirlishness, at least there was no one else here to remark upon it. He could only guess what comments Tedo would have about all this. And when she hurled her arms around him and squeezed? Well at least there was no one about to see that either.

His dismay must have shown on his face, for she settled down to chortles and apologized. "Sorry about that. Again. I'm just so happy to see you. You have no idea. And the least I can do after disturbing your spell is feed you lunch. I have plenty, and it's quite good." Surprising herself, she grabbed his empty hand and tugged him towards her picnic. Surprising them both, he let her.

SSSS

The food was good, and Granger (for she was still Granger in his head) who was still smiling radiantly, was surprisingly pleasant to be with. Though he could practically see the questions careening in her head like memos through the ministry of magic, she restrained herself, talking instead about the beauty of the island, the quality of the food, and the pleasant details of her trip. Though he appreciated her efforts to keep the conversation flowing despite his laconic and monosyllabic replies, (ah, baiting Granger…he had enjoyed that, hadn't he?) at length he found himself growing more tense with every additional pleasantry. She had questions…oh, yes she did. And he would have no peace until he provided answers. Perhaps, he decided, it was better to simply begin the barrage.

He finished his half of the sandwich and sighed. "You have fulfilled your duties as hostess adequately. You may ask your questions now."

"What questions?" she asked, eyes dancing merrily.

"The questions that are practically erupting from your formerly frizzy head. I'm surprised you've managed to keep your hand from waving at me insistently for this entire five minute eternity."

She laughed. "I'm not seventeen anymore professor. I can control my curiosity occasionally, recent missteps notwithstanding. Besides, my questions are really none of my business. "

He raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon me, I must savor the moment. The great Hermione Weasley has determined that an area of personal concern is not her business." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. There. I have finished savoring."

"Ha ha." She said, a pleased smile on her face. "It's good to know you haven't lost your dry wit."

"Please, Mrs. Weasley. Proceed, for I shall have no peace, I am sure, until your curiosity is addressed."

"Well, if you insist…"

"Oh, I do, believe me I do."

"Well then, have you been here on Arki this entire time?"

He smirked. Easing into it, is she? Well, he'd give her one, maybe two warm ups before curiosity got the better of her.

"I arrived here one week after the final battle, and save for short journeys to other islands, have remained here since."

"And you never think of going back?"

"I have not gone back. That is answer enough."

She paused. Ah, he thought, here we go. We approach what she really wants to know.

"Did someone help you?"

"As part of a small community, I often receive help from my neighbors regardless of whether or not it is necessary." He was right. Baiting Granger was indeed as fun as he remembered.

She winced. "No, that night, when we left you. Did anyone help you then?" Her eyes, round and hopeful, locked onto his.

"If you are referring to my _predicament_ in the boat house, to which you and your friends were witness, then no. I received no outside help. I revived, and with my wand was able to help myself."

She grimaced, her face suddenly pained, and looked down at her hands.

"We left you alone, dying, and in pain."

"I was ever alone and in pain, Mrs Weasley. You may set aside your misplaced Gryffindor guilt. Believe me, dying did not significantly worsten my condition."

Those amber eyes, so round moments before, began to fill.

"But I could have helped you. I had essence of dittany in my bag." The tears that had threatened moments ago began to stream silently down her cheeks. These tears, he knew were not for him, or not only for him at any rate. She was remembering another she had not been able to save. As someone who had once had his own bitter tears of loss and regret, he saw the entire convoluted emotion pass through her watery eyes. Unfortunately he'd become too accustomed to caring to shut off his compassion as once he would have. Gods, save him from meddling Gryffindors and their burdens.

"Had you stayed with me, and let that pea-brain Potter return to hunt horcruxes alone, all for which I had suffered might have been for naught. It is better that you left." He sighed. "As you are so fond of pointing out, I am alive. I survived. Consider yourself forgiven."

When she continued to weep, he huffed. "Is this emotional display for my benefit, or for your own, because I assure you, it brings me no comfort.

She shook her head, dried her eyes on the hem of her tee-shirt. "Sorry. Still crying at the drop of a hat. It's embarrassing. I'm really happy, you know." She snuffled a bit. "Thank you for your forgiveness. Nonetheless. I wronged you, badly, not only in this. I knew you were good. I KNEW it, and I let circumstances convince me otherwise. And I didn't just lose faith; when I did, I was cruel to you. Everyone was cruel to you. And you deserved the best of us, not the worse. And now, to see you alive, to know that I have a chance to make up what was done to you…It is the best thing that has happened to me since Ron died. .Severus Snape I owe you a debt. I herby claim the debtor's right to repay it."

He felt the frisson of magic curl around them both and sighed. A wizarding debt was a serious thing, and, like it or not, by claiming it, she had tied herself to him until the debt was fulfilled.

He looked at her and shook his head. "My dear Mrs. Weasley, once again, it doesn't appear as if I have a choice."

SSSSS

AN: Well, that was a surprise, at least to me. I hadn't planned on creating a magical tie between them. But one of you brilliant reviewers gave me some food for thought, and this is how it happened, so now we'll all find out what comes next together.

The good news is that this takes things in an unexpected direction. The bad news? Well that's a good 15 pages of material I will either have to re-write or throw away entirely. But really, what fun would it be if our heros couldn't surprise me from time to time?


	7. Logistics

Later that evening, the two of them sat on Snape's terrace, each examining their predicament. For Hermione, the process was logistical. Calls had been made to the tour office and the cruise ship. Her change in plans was taken with aplomb; apparently, it wasn't unusual for a traveler or two to become so enamored with an island that they decided to stay for a while. They would be happy, they said, to send Hermione's bag to her on the next day's ferry. A call was made to Hermione's house sitter in London, a Uni student on a tight budget. She was overjoyed at the extra employment. Finally, she sent a text to Ginny and Harry, telling them she'd extended her holiday. They seemed unsurprised, and wished her a nice stay. In all, Hermione discovered it was disconcertingly easy for her to disconnect entirely from her life in London for an indefinite time.

For Severus, the process was much more emotional. Sitting on his terrace, at this very moment, was a bomb, an annoying, loud bomb that could potentially explode his entire life. At the very least, she would eradicate his beloved privacy for some time, for there was nowhere else on the island that she could stay at present. At the worst, she could, whether by intention or accident, call his continued existence to the world that he had chosen to leave. By all rights, he should be furious. And yet, he wasn't. For now, he was strangely content to let the hand of fate stir in the pot of his life. At the very least, he suspected that baiting Granger could become a pleasurable hobby indeed.

SSSS

"I can see why you love this place so much." She said, looking at the view of the village. "It's just gorgeous up here."

He glided over, (How did he do that? Shouldn't he be required to walk like normal humans? How was he so damned graceful?) He handed her a short glass filled with clear liquid. "How is it that you assume that I love this place?"

Hermione's lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile. "It shows. Everything is so well-tended, the flowers, the furniture. The gravel walk. You always did take meticulous care of the things that were important to you. Yes, I believe that you love it, and that you're happy here."

He snorted. "Having you here will likely change that. How, exactly, am I to explain the sudden appearance of a woman in my home for an indefinite visit?"

Hermione swirled her drink in a circle. "Ouzo?" She took a sip. "Oh. That's good. Much better than what they served on the boat." She took a deeper sip. "Perhaps I could be a visiting colleague? Or a former flame? Or a former flame who is also a visiting colleague?" She grinned at him, unsurprised when he didn't grin back. "Or, Hell, don't explain a thing. Let them think that you picked up a random tourist and are having your dastardly way with her."

He smirked, not unhappily. That last one would get Mama Alevizos into a twist.

"You forget, Mrs. Weasley, that in my current life I am never dastardly. Besides, any of those explanations would set the entire island aflame with speculation. "

Hermione grinned at him again. "Nothing wrong with that. Personally, I like the idea of being featured in a salacious bit of gossip. I've been "that poor widow" for too long. Merlin, I'm tired of being pitiful." She looked away, embarrassed by her confession. "But they are your people. It's up to you to tell them whatever you want to about me."

"That you are an obnoxious, impulsive witch who has gotten me into a magical bind from which I must now extricate myself?"

She raised her glass to him, and poured the rest of the contents down the hatch. Choking, she spluttered a barely intelligible: "If you like."

He tipped back his own glass, swallowing the firey Ouzo without difficulty. "Really, Mrs. Weasley," he said, placing his glass carefully on the table, "it's amazing to me that you have survived these thirty-nine years at all, given your predilection for rash action. One would think that by now your impulses would have gotten you into severe trouble."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, they do do that from time to time. But for the most part, they tend to put me exactly where I need to be. It's not a graceful system, I'll grant you that. And it bothers me that with all the stock I put into my brain, it ends up being my gut that makes so many of the choices, but I suppose it works for the most part. Not dead yet. But in the case of you…the debt magic… it really wasn't as impulsive as all that. Not really."

Snape refilled both of their glasses. "Oh, really?" His sonorous voice was rife with sarcasm. "Given that you knew I was alive for all of 5 minutes prior to making it, you claim that it wasn't impulsive? Oh, do elucidate, I am all aflutter."

Hermione glared at him, but continued nonetheless.

"Good. Then I'll tell it you a little story. It was a little over two years ago. The night Harry and I waked Ron. Ron asked for an Irish wake, so we had a big party, and Harry and I were the last two standing. Barely. Drunk as two skunks. Anyway, Harry made a confession."

"Oh," he rolled his eyes. "A Potter confession. It just gets better and better. I am riveted. Please do go on."

"Thank you, I will. Anyway. That night Harry confessed that the man he carried with great ceremony into the Great Hall after the battle, the very one given a hero's burial in a massive mausoleum next to Dumbledore's, was not you."

She paused in her storytelling, using a sip of Ouzo to examine her listener, and noted that he was paying very close attention. Good.

"It was only then that I found out that when he had arrived at the boathouse moments after Voldemort's death, your body was not there. Twenty years he kept that secret, even from his best friends. It seems he followed one of_ his_ impulses, and used the Elder Wand to transfigure the corpse of a snatcher into a facsimile of you. Then he levitated that body back to the castle. He wasn't sure how long the illusion would last, but when he saw that your body was missing, he believed that you had somehow escaped death. He transfigured the body to buy you time, as much time as possible for you to make your escape. He wanted you to be truly free."

She paused, to let her words sink in, and took another sip. "As it turns out, the wand's power held until after the internment. Et Voila, as far as the wizarding world was concerned, the character of Severus Snape was buried forever.

"When Harry told me all this, well, even in my drunken stupor I didn't buy it. I mean, I believed that he _wanted_ you to be alive… you have no idea how much what he saw in the pensive moved him…but I never really believed you actually had survived. Those wounds…that venom…

She shook her head as if clearing the memory from it. "It was just…unsurvivable. Nonetheless, ever since then, I've envied his ability to make even the slightest amends for the wrongs all of us had done to you. And I swore to myself that if I ever had a chance to do so myself, I would grab onto it with both hands. My chance came, and I took it.

"So…impulsive, but not."

Severus, who had sat motionless through her recitation, stood abruptly and went to the railing to look out over the village.

"So. Potter bought me my freedom."

She looked at the tension in his shoulders, regretted the necessity of creating it. "No, you did, with whatever miracle you pulled off to survive those wounds. He just…protected your freedom to the best of his ability. Still is, really. You should have seen what he did to that bitch Skeeter to keep her "Snape's Alive" theories out that book of hers. Made her skitter like the insect that she is. It was a thing of beauty, I tell you."

Snape kept his back turned towards Granger so that he could digest these revelations in a semblance of privacy. So many years of freedom…essentially granted to him by the intervention of none other than the spectacled menace. Now that was rich. Life had always had a particularly pointed sense of humor where he was concerned. He waited for the itch to come, the sensation of repulsion he'd always felt when someone pitied him. To have been aided by one he despised…it should rankle. But it didn't. Perhaps it was right for him, and Granger too, to attempt to even the scales between them. If anyone understood the desire for atonement, it was he. Perhaps the fact that it eased their ridiculous parody of guilt did not mitigate the fact that they intended to do him a kindness in return for his suffering.

It was a vast thought, and one he would have to consider further. But the fact was, no matter what the motivation, Potter had taken an action from which he had greatly benefited.

He resolved to use fewer invectives when thinking of him in the future.

End Chapter Eight

AN: This transitional scene seemed necessary to me…Tomorrow, their life together begins, and that's when it starts to get fun!

Thank you for reading and reviewing. You guys are inspirational. Seriously, next chapter you'll start to see all the impact your input has wrought. Seiouslyperky, Chapter 9 is for you!

More please!

Theolyn


	8. Between Mischief and Malace

Severus moved silently through the pre-dawn darkness, preparing to run.

Granger was still sound asleep in the cottage's main room. He walked in, and found her curled into a neat little ball upon the transfigured sofa. In sleep, with that infernal mouth of hers closed, she looked delicate, vulnerable. She really was too thin. But there was something…luminous about her skin. He was surprised to note an impulse to touch its smoothness.

He snorted. Oh, he'd touch her alright. After all, if she was determined to improve his life despite his wishes, he was damned well going to repay the favor.

He reached out his hand and shook her shoulder abruptly.

"Granger, wake up."

She came instantly alert, leaping from the bed. "Are we under attack?"

He noted with approval that she was standing wand at the ready in only slightly more time than it would have taken him, had their roles been reversed. No lingering sluggishness, no confusion, ready in an instant to take action. The woman might make thoughtless choices, but at least she took her own defense seriously.

Too bad there were no defensive spells for what he'd planned for her.

"No."

She blew out a breath and lowered her wand, looking around for clues to her waking.

"Well, what then?"

"We, Mrs. Weasley, are going for a run."

Hermione looked around again, examining the darkness with vague panic on her face.

" A run?"

He said nothing.

"Now?"

He nodded, and threw a neat pile of his clothes to her. "Yes, now. Transfigure these to fit. I prefer to run before dawn."

"You want me to run with you?"

"Mrs. Weasley, as you so wisely said yesterday, you are tired of being pitiful. And you require more muscle on your frame. So transfigure those clothes, then transfigure those atrocious boots, and we shall begin the process of remedying you."

"But, I don't run."

He smiled at her, with a look that partway between mischief and malice.

"You do now."

SSSS

He was going to kill her.

Her lungs were burning,

Her heart was pounding.

Her quadriceps were screaming at her.

Hell, her whole body was screaming at her. But any time she tried to stop, or showed any sign of slowing, that, that, _man_ simply loped around and yelled at her until her pace resumed. It was like having an angry grim nipping at her heals.

Any minute now she was going to have a massive coronary and die in a pool of her own lactic acid, here on this beautiful beach in the middle of the infernal night. Who ran in the dead of night, anyway?

Gods. Oxygen. She needed oxygen.

Just as she could feel her heart preparing to burst, Snape loped back around to her, utterly un-winded, and gestured for her to stop.

"Mrs. Weasley, note that structure there. It indicates that you have now run one mile. You may turn, and walk back to the house. I shall continue onwards."

Hermione immediately bent over double, breath heaving.

Snape smirked. "Oh, by all means, do that Mrs. Weasley, if you'd like rather painful cramps in your sides. Standing up straight will ultimately produce a less painful resting period. And do not allow yourself to cool too much before you begin the walk home or your muscles will seize, making it all that much more difficult."

And with that, the bastard picked up speed, and loped away.

SSSS

Some time later, Hermione trudged through the dawn, up the hill to Severus' house. She suspected she'd allowed herself to cool too much, for her muscles were unresponsive as blocks of concrete. So she trudged, and muttered to herself, trying to work off the head of steam she'd built up. "He's trying to kill me. That's what it is. Try to help the man, and you're signing up for torture. Healthful torture. Who decided this running stuff was healthy? It's a myth, that's what it is. No way this can be good for you." She deepened her voice in mockery of his. "Oh, sure, have a little run, Hermione. Build a little muscle. It will feel so good." She paused to catch her breath. "What I want to know is where the hell is my runner's high that I'm supposed to get? Huh? Where is my high?"

Her ranting was interrupted by the sound of feet approaching behind her. She whirled, in time to see her host, smirk in place, easily float up the hill that was currently burning up her hamstrings.

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him as he easily passed, his merry laughter bounding back at her.

End, Chapter 9

AN: That's right, Severus! Make her pay! This bit of mild Hermione torture is dedicated to Excessively Perky, and all the other readers who were outraged that Hermione inflicted herself upon Severus' hard won peace.

Thank you all of you who reviewed. I'm a bit behind on my responses, but I read and treasure each and every one. So thank you! You guys really keep me going!


	9. Like You

AN: My apologies…The very beginning draft of this chapter somehow got attached to the end of last chapter. I've fixed it…but if you've already read chapter 9, some of this might sound familiar. I am so sorry. Please read it again though, as it's much better now!

Chapter 10:

Hermione sighed and let the hot water beat down on her traumatized body. Oh, she'd been angry when Snape had practically dumped her into the shower. But he'd been right. The hot water was exactly, exactly what she'd needed.

And really, he'd been covered in sweat himself, yet he'd let her shower first. She supposed that should count for something.

The image of Snape covered in sweat, running ahead of her, flashed into her head. Damn, he was beautiful. Even in her agony, even as she was cursing his name, she had appreciated the preternatural grace of his movement. Of course, if she was honest with herself, that wasn't the only thing she had appreciated. The view from behind. Of his behind. It was…inspirational. Oh, Gods! She was starting to sound like a horny widow. What an embarrassing cliché. Ugh.

At this very moment, Mr. Fantastic Buns, who had run gods knew how many more miles than she, was waiting for his shower in the cool dawn air. Better get clean and get out.

She reached for the dun-colored bar of soap in the alcove somewhat dubiously. In her experience, men's soaps were harsh noxious things that smelled like underarm deodorants. But she was stinky and sweaty, and at this point she'd probably clean herself with laundry detergent if she had to. So she grabbed the bar and began to lather.

Gods. This soap was something else. Smooth to the touch, subtly scented with laurel, the homely bar produced the most sinful cascade of suds she'd ever experienced. Hermione practically moaned as she spread it over her body.

The man was obviously a sadist, but boy did he have skills.

SSSS

Severus had considered his options long and hard, and had finally decided that any delay would only make things worse. There was nothing to be done but rip this bandage off in one stroke. And so, once the sun had made some progress in the sky, he herded Granger down the hill to the home of Mama Alevizos.

He had considered going up ahead to warn Mama that breakfast for two was about to become breakfast for three, but he'd decided that she would find that very action insulting, an insinuation that Mama was not ready to feed the entire island should they decide to descend upon her. And so, unannounced they knocked upon her front door.

"Ah, Severoos!" She clucked, hugging him to her ample bosom. She froze as her eyes locked on to Hermione over his shoulder. She cackled with pleasure "Sevroos! You have brought me a skinny woman to feed up! A tourist, no?"

"Mama, this is Hermione Weasley, a friend from home. You'll find that she speaks only basic Greek."

"A friend-from-home skinny tourist! No matter. We speak in English" She clapped her hands together as if overjoyed and turned to Hermione. "My dear. I am Mama Alevizos. Please come in, come in."

"Thank you, er, Mama. I hope I'm not imposing."

"Imposing! Ha. You Tourists," she muttered, in a tone that bordered on offended, "and your silly ideas."

Shortly, she had the three of them settled on her own terrace, with a broad array of dishes in front of them. Severus was just about to spoon his second bite of porridge into his mouth when Mama interrupted him.

"Sevroos. I forgot the tea! Do go boil us some water."

Given that the last time Mama forgot something was likely before he was born, Severus understood the message that he was to abandon the scene and stay away for a while. He grumbled, grabbed his bowl and headed into the kitchen.

Mama smiled fondly at his retreating back. "He is such a good boy." Mama's eyes shifted onto Hermione. "So, My dear. Let's have some girl talk. What happened to your wedding band?" Though the tone was friendly, there was something censorious about the undertone of it.

Hermione started, and looked down at her left hand. The tan line she'd had when she'd removed her rings at the beginning of the trip had surrendered to the fierce Greek sun, but the finger itself was indeed still narrower where it had been encircled for twenty years. It was subtle, but it was there. Obviously, Mama Alevizos had a very sharp eye.

Hermione blinked. "I just took it off two weeks ago."

Mama's eyes darkened further. "You are recently divorced then?" She pronounced the word "divorced" with great distaste.

Hermione, shook her head. "Actually, I'm widowed."

Mama's entire face transformed to beaming delight. "Widowed. Oh, my dear how terrible. How I still miss my Stephan! How long has it been? One year? Two?"

Hermione smiled ruefully. "Two. I tried to take my rings off after one, but I just couldn't."

"Of course not! And you were married for…"

Under the weight of Mama's stare, Hermione didn't think to answer with anything but the truth.

"Twenty years."

Mama smiled knowingly. "Twenty years. That is a good long time you had with him. And he was good to you?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Yes, Mama. He was very good to me."

More beaming. "Good! Good! And did you do your duty to your husband and give him children?"

"Hugo and Rose. They are both at school now."

"Ah. A boy and a girl. Excellent. Children lift the heart!" Mama beamed at Severus as he rejoined them on the patio with the kettle of water.

"Sevroos! You bring me a good girl today. I am pleased. Now come help me get my big pot off the top shelf."

Snape, sighing, grabbed a piece of bread, slapped a piece of cheese on top of it, and obediently followed Mama into her Kitchen.

"You bring me a good girl today. Too skinny, but a good girl. She is like you, no?"

Severus, in the process of reaching for the pot, froze in place.

"What do you mean, "like me", Mama?"

"She's a scholar. A bookish type." Mama smiled at him with a pointed look. "Why, what did you think I meant?"

Severus grunted, "nothing" and went back to pot retrieval.

"I am very happy today. Very happy. A widow from a happy marriage already knows how to make a man happy. She will be good for you."

Severus sighed and handed her the pot. "Mama, it's not like that."

Mama took the pot and smiled at him. "Isn't it?"

End Chapter Ten

AN: I had planned on saving this for tomorrow, but since so many of you already saw this in its earlier larval form, I figure I should post the correction straight away. Sorry!

Theolyn


	10. Creative Thinking

In the afternoon, Snape went off to Tiganakia to re-cast his diagnostic spells. He had declined to have Hermione's aid, saying she had done quite enough the day before. He looked at her closely, noting her pallor and the dragging of her limbs. On his way out the door, he paused.

"On the islands, the afternoons are for taking an hour or two of rest. I recommend you transfigure your bed and take advantage of the custom."

Hermione nodded, with no intention of heeding his advice. Instead, she planned to use her free time to resume her work. Before she could make any forward progress, she would need to refresh herself on her most recent notes. She accio'd her grimoire, set it up on the coffee table…

…and awoke several hours later, slumped in an awkward position on the sofa. There was a terrible crick in her neck, her arm was numb from lack of circulation, and every muscle in her legs appeared to be competing to see who could declare their suffering more loudly. If there was a muscle in her body that didn't hurt, she couldn't, at present, identify it.

She was plotting how she was going to manage to stand up when she noticed a small blue vial. It was set next to her carefully closed grimoire, with a note written in narrow, elegant print. "Pain Reliever. Consume entire dose. Looks like you will need it. S"

She practically wept with gratitude.

SSSS

By the time the two of them sat down on the terrace to watch the sunset, she felt almost human again. She didn't think Snape could say the same. He'd been in a dark mood ever since returning from his work.

"You seem out of sorts; How did your diagnostics go?"

He grunted. "I misinterpreted the data. Not a breeding ground, but a nursery…a nearby saltwater marsh filled in over two years ago. Human thoughtlessness. More than likely to build some atrocious tourist facility. So, the nursery is gone, and there is nothing to be done about it."

Hermione tilted her head. "Are you sure about that? What about a modified Protego?"

His head whipped around to stare at her. "Explain."

"Well, that's the issue, right? Smaller fish being eaten by larger fish. If we cold protect them, given them a safe place to replace the lost marsh, then more would grow up to reach maturity. It's not a quick fix, but it should make a difference in a year or two."

He narrowed his eyes. "The principal is sound enough. It may be possible. We would have to find a way to determine what size fish would be excluded."

"Like a filter!"

"Yes, a magical filter that would separate juveniles from adults." He walked inside the cottage, emerged with a paper and pencil, and began to sketch his notes.

"And you'll need some kind of barrier spell to keep the fish within the protected zone."

He shook his head. "Not a barrier spell, the current would fry it in short order…but a lure. For the fish as well as for their main food source. Draw them in, entice them to stay."

Hermione pulled her chair over, closer to his so that she could look over his notes as he wrote them. She pointed to one portion of the diagram he was drawing.

"We'd also need a surface spell to deter fishermen from dropping nets there."

" A simple Keep Away charm would work; fishermen are superstitious, a "bad feeling" would never be ignored."

"Easy enough, but what about the birds?"

"Birds. We would have to extend the Keep Away to include avian species."

"Can we do that?"

"I assume so. It would require some adjustments, but the principals should hold."

"How do we bind it to one area of water?"

"We don't. We bind it below. A submerged rock or a wreck might be adequate."

"Shallower water might be better."

"Indeed."

Heads almost touching, the two of them worked out the details until long after the sun had set.

Ssss

Later that night, as he prepared for his bed, Snape considered the evening's exercise. Oh, it had been satisfying, almost thrilling, to tease out the problem with a brain as agile as his own. He'd been prepared to consider the entire exercise futile; for the most part, damage done by man to the natural world was not easily remedied by magical means. But her enthusiasm had encouraged him to consider the problem from a different perspective. The back-and-forth of their discourse had been, for lack of a better word, enjoyable.

He moved about the house, silently, extinguishing lights and ensuring that his nighttime wards were all functioning properly. Not once in the 20 years on this island had he ever found one of his wards threatened. But the habit was ingrained, and he saw no reason to change it.

As he passed through the living room, he could not help but glance at Granger. She was already asleep, had been for a good hour at least. As his eyes adjusted, he could see her outline grow clearer in the moonlight. From the rhythm of her breath, he suspected that she slept the exhausted slumber of one who has pushed their body beyond its current limits and into uncharted territory. But that was not a bad thing. He stood there, watching her chest rise and fall for a few minutes, thinking nothing, just listening to the soothing sound of her breath. Satisfied that she was well, he turned to go to his own rest.

He was feeling so charitable towards Ms. Granger that he was almost sorry that he would wake her in 6 short hours, and force her to do it all over again.

Almost.

SSSSSS

AN: Once again, thank you so much for your generous reviews. I particularly love it when you take the time to tell me what is working for you and what isn't. Already this story has been significantly changed/shaped by your input; keep it coming!

Theolyn


	11. What the Body Knows

Chapter Twelve

Hermione woke in the dark of predawn. After training with Severus for two weeks, her body clock was now set for early morning workouts. She awoke without difficulty, transfigured her bed back into a couch, and slipped into the bathroom the moment that Severus came out of it. By the time he was ready, she would be ready also, and the two of them would descend the hill to the beach path together in companionable silence.

Once they reached the beach, they performed a series of stretches. Then, having shared no communication more formal than a nod, they began to run.

It amazed Hermione how quickly she had learned to love this. The velvet blackness of the sky. The quiet lapping of the ocean. The thick moist air. The thrill of speed. The rhythmic chuffing of their breath. The delicious feeling of moving her body. Even the soreness afterwards was strangely good.

She glanced over, surprised to see the one mile mark. In just two weeks, this point had moved from being a barely achievable goal, to being her favorite feature on a much longer route.

This was where Severus stopped warming up and started running. She watched him take on speed with the fascination that she had previously reserved for programs on Animal Planet. There was nothing extra, nothing fancy, just a beautiful economy of motion. He was with her, and then, with a few powerful strides, he was gone.

Hermione sighed. Eventually, she was going to have to come to grips with this_ thing_ she was feeling for Severus. Except during the brief time when she'd believed that he'd murdered Dumbledore, she'd always admired the man…quite deeply. But that had been different. That had been an intellectual fascination, a deep desire for his approval, a hope that he would recognize her as worthy. In truth, it had been more about her than about him.

This feeling…well, it was a lot more complicated than that had been. She still felt that fascination, that desire for his attention. But there was also the heavy weight of his heroism mixed in with her guilt about having failed him, mixed in with a growing affection…and as if that weren't all confusing enough, the entire emotional morass was mired in a heavy foundation of lust. He just…did it for her on a very fundamental level. That led to another level of complications, for though she knew that Ron wanted her to live again, she wasn't quite sure she was ready for…something like this. Whatever the hell this was.

And, whatever it was, it was certainly terribly inappropriate for someone who owed him a debtor's claim. It muddied the waters, made her feel like she was taking advantage of the debt just to keep him near her, rather than actively trying to resolve it.

It worried her. How would she recognize what he really needed, when her brain kept mixing their needs up? Because no matter how much effort she put in to finding a way to settle the debt between them, the only answer her psyche was delivering to her was "just love him."

It was a voice that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Mildly disgusted with herself, Hermione reached this week's turnaround, and began the trek home.

End, Chapter 12

AN: Creative question to ponder: How do you think love builds in a man with Snape's inner landscape? Your thoughts on the matter would be most welcome!

Thank you for reading.


	12. The Scent of Desire

SSSS

Today, he would manufacture soaps and shampoos. His usual manufacturing date was more than a month from now. But Granger, with her absurd fascination for his soap, had made quite a dent in his supply. Not that he blamed her, really. He had examined the expensive muggle products that had arrived in her suitcase; while they were attractively packaged, he found them as lacking as the cheap ones that came in by ferry.

He did not mind sharing his products with the witch. Her work on the fish sanctuary, after all, had been most helpful. It was, even now, attracting a nice community of small fry to the protected area. He had no doubt that the island would feel the benefit of it in another year or so. If she liked his soap, then his soap she would have.

But he would have to make some changes. He planned to make a double batch. To half of it, he would add the bay laurel scents he preferred.

To the other half, he would add a more feminine fragrance. He did not like her moving about the world, smelling like him. He would also add two drops of grapeskin extract as a dye. The resultant color would make telling the two bars apart a bit easier; if it had the additional effect of creating a prettier product for Granger, well, that was not an unhappy side effect.

He'd decided on this course of action earlier this morning, after they had returned from their early morning run. He'd been distracted, his mind already casting about for the next challenge. She'd exited her shower carelessly, and in the narrow hallway had literally walked into his chest. It had been awkward; she'd been clutching on to her towel, so he'd had to grab her fragrant, moist shoulders in order to keep both of them from tumbling down. In doing so, he had gotten a strong whiff of his scent covering her body.

In retrospect, his reaction was the culmination of a discomfort that had been building in him for days. Smelling his scent on her skin stirred him in a way that went beyond the obvious physical reaction to having a warm, damp, nearly naked woman in his hands. There was something about smelling himself on her flesh…possessive was probably the word. He could almost hear the Slytherin snake within him hissing "Mine." It was inappropriate, and not to be tolerated.

He sincerely hoped a different soap would send the snake back into slumber.

SSSSS

Hermione made a final note in her Grimoire and grumbled. She was well and truly stuck. Her current avenue of exploration, so promising just two months ago, seemed to have reached yet another dead end. And, dammit, she had really thought she was on to something this time. Though her research grant covered her for another full year, she couldn't help but fret that she seemed no closer to her solution.

Of course, work wasn't the only thing that was frustrating her. There had been a moment this morning, when she'd bumped into Severus... He had put his hands on her (gods, those hands), stared at her with those unreadable eyes, and it had felt, for a second, like he was going to kiss her, or maybe devour her. At the time, she hadn't given a damn which. But instead of pulling her closer, he'd simply moved her to the side, calmly released her shoulders, and enjoined her to "Exit the shower more carefully in the future."

She growled again, and slapped her Grimoire shut.

As if summoned by her thoughts of him, he was standing there, inscrutable, patiently waiting for her attention.

"Frustrated, Granger?"

She gave him her best baleful stare.

The smirk he gave her in response was textbook Snape.

"I'm glad that I amuse you."

"Oh, you do indeed do that Granger. In return, perhaps this will give you pleasure. I made these for you."

He handed her a small package wrapped in plain paper. She looked at him curiously, and unwrapped it. Nestled within were two heavy, rose-colored bars of soap. She picked one up, inhaled. It smelled wonderful. Subtle and faintly sweet.

"You made these for me?" Her eyes were owlish in their surprise. She lifted a bar to her nose again. "Mmmmm…What is this scent? It smells familiar. Is it some kind of endemic flower?"

"It is the scent of ripe figs." He did not further elucidate that the scent of ripe fig was his favorite smell, for as soon as he thought it, it occurred to him that perhaps enveloping her in his own favorite scent had not been the most strategic choice. He could almost hear the snake within sniggering.

"Fig? Really, I didn't even know that fig had a scent."

He stared at her for a moment as if she were truly insane, whirled on his heels and stalked away. Hermione grinned. Over the past two weeks, she had gotten absurdly fond of his lightening-fast mood changes. This time, she couldn't help but wonder if he missed his voluminous teaching cloak when making such a dramatic exit. The white linen was lovely, but it just didn't swirl adequately.

He shortly stalked back into the living room.

"How is it that a human being can live so many years and be so bloody oblivious to their senses? Come here, Granger."

She stood up and walked to him. In one hand, he held a ripe fig and a sharp paring knife. She watched his long, deft fingers curve the knife around the fruit, slicing it neatly in half. He stepped closer to her.

"Close your eyes." He said, his sonorous voice sliding over her skin.

She looked at him quizzically.

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded without hesitation.

"Then close your eyes."

She did, her heart hammering in her chest.

He was close enough that she felt, rather than heard him lift the fruit to her nose. She took a sniff, and shook her head, indicating that she could not smell anything.

"No," he said, annoyed. "Do not sniff, open your mouth slightly, and breathe deeply through both your nose and mouth."

She did as he said, and there it was, part floral, part fruit, delicate, elusive. She sighed.

"I smell it now. It's amazing."

She opened her eyes. He was still standing there, too close, staring at her face intensely. He nodded with satisfaction. To her surprise, he then popped half the fig in her mouth.

He put the other half between his own lips, and whirled away.

SSSSS

AN: Mmmmm….figs. Figs are often prelude to lemons, dontcha know…


	13. Practices

Chapter 14

Hermione moved slowly and fluidly through her sixth sun salutation. Though she'd stopped practicing yoga mid way through Ron's illness, she was finding that her body remembered the asanas quite well. If anything, between the running, and the swimming, and the occasional free-weight torture Severus had inflicted upon her over the past month, she was strong enough to do things she'd never done before. Instead of struggling through singles, she could now move slowly and easily through double or even triple chattarangas. She'd always thought of Yoga as an exercise in stretch, at which she was naturally gifted, but apparently strength made everything quite a bit better.

Hermione moved through the rest of her practice at a slower-than-normal pace. After all, today was Severus' big run. According to him, he would be gone for another hour at least. She could take her time. She stepped back into side angle pose, felt the stretch down the right side of her torso, and after a moment decided to go for the full bind. It was do-able, but not as easy as it had been before she'd acquired some muscle, so she grasped her right wrist with her left hand, and did her best to focus on her breathing.

From there, she transitioned into bird of paradise. It had always been one of her favorite poses, one that her body, with its innate flexibility, was made for. She shifted her weight on to her right leg, brought her left to meet it, crouched over in a little ball with her arms still bound behind her. With her newfound muscles, she unfurled, slowly lifting and straightening her left leg while simultaneously lifting her chest to the sky. Breathe she told herself. Just breathe.

SSSS

He had run too far, too fast. He had not paced himself adequately because he been too busy thinking. Had he been thinking of a new magical project as he'd intended? No. He had been thinking of Granger. Somehow she'd co-opted his thoughts as easily as she'd moved into his house. He now spent the most inordinate amount of time thinking about the witch. And lately, those thoughts had shifted from ways he could torment her, to…other things. Ways to please her. Like the soap. Oh, that had been to his benefit, to be sure, but he'd also enjoyed the simple act of surprising her. It was like bringing Mama fresh flowers, only…not.

Last night he'd caught himself watching her again as she slept. It was most annoying. He did not want to be attracted to Granger. He did not want to disorder his carefully ordered life any more than it already was. He wanted her to rid them both of this infernal bond so that he could send her back on her way and have things the way they were before she'd traipsed all over everything.

That thoughts of her leaving left him feeling hollow inside was not worth considering.

Today he'd announced that he was going on a long run in an effort to acquire some prolonged solitude. They had been together for one month now, and it was time, he thought, for a break. But only seven miles in, he'd found that he was actually hurrying _so that he could get back to her_. On a run of that length, the additional speed had been…unwise. He was not injured, thankfully, but as he reached the front door, he recognized with resignation that he had severely tested his limits, and would likely be sore indeed for the next several days.

SSSS

The first thing he saw when he crossed the threshold was Granger on the patio, bent double with her back to him. She was sweating, and breathing loudly, with her arms in an impossible position. Adrenaline rushed through him. Thinking her injured, he moved forward, only to see her gracefully rise, arms still tangled, and extend one leg into the sky. From his angle behind her, he could just see that the face she tilted up to the sun was relaxed and radiant. Whatever she was doing to herself, it seemed to agree with her. Though he would never before have considered her a beautiful woman, he was disturbed to note that at that moment, with that expression on her face, he found her arrestingly handsome.

Great. He muttered silently to himself. Just great.

SSSS

Hermione wandered into the kitchen twenty minutes later to fill her water bottle. As she stepped in, she was in time to see Severus with an empty vial of potion in his hand

"You're back. Was that pain reliever you just took?" She asked in surprise.

He grunted. "A mild one. I dislike the disjointed feeling the stronger ones give me."

"I've never seen you take one before."

"I do not usually need it." With an annoyed look on his face, he grabbed his ankle behind him with two hands, and pressed his ankle back and his hip forward. "But it seems that I set my pace for today's run a bit quicker than my body liked." He switched sides. "The results have become… uncomfortable."

Hermione looked at him speculatively. It was strange to see him move without his characteristic grace. It made it easy, for a moment, to see him as just a man. A tall, weary man.

"Well, it seems we've at last found one small way that I can help you. Come this way."

SSSS

Snape stared at the transfigured sofa dubiously.

"What is that?"

She laughed. "That, my friend, is a massage table. I got certified in massage therapy to help pay my way through university. And you are about to benefit from my skills. Take off your clothes, climb under the sheet, and lay with your face in the open hole at the far end."

The look he turned towards her was one of shocked horror.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, Severus. You are in pain, and I can help you. I used to be on the staff for the British Olympic cycling team. I've seen more naked butts than a doctor at an inoculation clinic. But if you prefer, I can drape you to protect your modesty."

He was still looking horrified.

Her voice, which had assumed the tone she used when her children failed to behave properly, dropped into something more tender. "Severus, I know it's hard for you, but I promise that I will not hurt you. Will you please just trust me?"

Her amber eyes were suddenly soft, and uncertain. Pleading. He recalled that when he had asked her the same question just a week ago, she had responded without hesitation. And so, against his better judgment, he nodded silently.

"Well, okay then." She smiled broadly. "Now I'm going to leave the room, and when I return, you will be lying face down under that sheet."

SSSS

Contrary to what Granger thought, it was not the thought of being nude in front of her that was of issue. Any modesty he may have had had been burned away during his first hedonistic years at Tom Riddle's side. In actuality he preferred to be nude whenever possible. It was another kind of freedom, wasn't it?

But to have her touch him…he had extraordinary self-control, but he was not sure that he was up to having her hands caressing his naked skin. She'd been…too present in his fantasies of late. He was not, after all, a monk. He was a man, and though he exercised careful restraint in his sex life, he felt that in this case, his restraint might not be quite up to this task. His only hope, now that he had committed himself to this course of action, was that his pain would be a sufficient distraction to keep his libido at bay.

And so, Severus Snape stepped out of his clothes, and slipped, as ordered, between the crisp sheets.

SSSS

Using a spell to warm her hands, Hermione placed them on the dense muscle of his shoulders. She began to kneed, using a gentle but firm pressure.

"Granger, my shoulders are not the affected portion of my body." His words were muffled by the position of the head rest, but she understood him clearly enough.

Hemione snorted. "Determined to be difficult, aren't you? A good therapist never starts with the parts that are tender and hurting. We start in a safe place, easing then body into the sensation of being worked, and then move towards the affected area."

"Well, I don't need to be 'eased into.'"

"Severus." She used her annoyed mother voice again. "Just shut up. When one part of the body is in pain the rest tightens up to compensate. The entire body needs to be treated. Now relax. I am actually quite good at this. You may actually enjoy it." She began to kneed the muscles up and down the long column of his neck. "Who knows, the magic might even consider it a down payment on the debt." She noted the increased in tension in his shoulders and became even more determined. He was going to enjoy this, even if she had to beat him over the head with a book to gain his compliance.

"Now, you are going to take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and let…me… take care of you. Is that clear? Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Now breathe in."

Still grumbling, he took a deep breath. As he released it, Granger increased her pressure to the depth she'd found most athletes preferred. And suddenly, it was all he could do not to moan.

She was right. So right. How had he not known how that area on his shoulders was aching? The message from them had obviously been buried by the barrage from his lower half. Or the muscles along his spine? It made sense that they would absorb more impact in a hard run. How had he not felt them before this? It was as if they had waited for her touch to acknowledge that they too were suffering from his overexertion. As her strong hands moved over them again and again, he could feel the tension leaving them, feel them practically purring in release.

He was practically purring too. Without realizing he was doing it, he found himself breathing with the rhythm of her strokes, exhaling loudly as she pushed in to his tissue, inhaling when she rubbed an aching part to the border of pain.

SSSSS

That was better. He was now relaxing under her hands. His breath began to rise and fall with her actions, began to speak to her of what was working, and what needed more pressure. It was a delicate dance, giving a deep tissue massage. A conversation between the giver and the receiver that required no words beyond the communications of the body. How she'd missed this. She surrendered herself to the act of giving.

SSSS

He was in an altered state. Awash in physical sensation…but also more than that. He felt cared for. Nurtured. Safe. His brain felt no need to think any thought beyond experiencing what Granger was doing to him. Her hands on his feet were a revelation. So many points of aching and tenderness and pleasure. He simultaneously wanted her to stay there forever, even as he could feel his calves crying out for her attention.

He imagined he could actually feel her efforts working the lactic acid from his hamstrings. The tightness that had hobbled him just minutes before completely melted. He could not imagine that anything could feel more necessary. Until she began to dig into his illiotibial band. Though he stretched it religiously, it was always tight, Her touch there was electric, shooting up and down the length of his legs. He could feel it becoming more pliant, releasing its constant tension upon his patella. The relief in his knee joint was astounding, like it had just become a decade younger than it had been previously.

She followed the problematic band of tissue up to its insertion point, deep beneath his glutes. He wondered vaguely if this was when things would get awkward, with her hands firm on the meat of his ass. Not that he cared, really. She could feel awkward if she needed to as long as didn't stop. Any awkwardness he might have felt was drowned in the wave of sensation when she used the point of her elbow to dig below the layers of muscle to the tissue beneath. It was an exquisite combination of pain and pleasure, erotic in its depth, and yet not sexual. Utterly and completely absorbing. Gods. Nothing existed but the sensations in his body. Even when he noticed that saliva had, at some earlier point, begun to leak from his mouth and fall onto the floor below the table he could not have cared less. It was the most extraordinary feeling.

"Severus, I'm going to lift this sheet, and I'd like you to turn over, and scoot down so that your head is on the main part of the table."

It took him a moment to move up into consciousness enough register her words, and another few moments to prepare his body to comply.

"You may want to breathe through your mouth for a moment or two until your sinuses open back up, okay?"

He nodded, and then felt himself slip away again as she began to work the front of his legs. Halfway up his calves, he had a thought, and realized it was the first thought he had had in many many minutes. The thought was: "How amd I going to live without this now that I know what I am missing?"

He was relaxed almost to the border of sleep when she began to work on his quadriceps. Though his hamstrings had been more painful, these largest leg muscles were more tender. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought she was using legelimancy, for she reduced her pressure the moment he needed her to. The sensation of having his physical being be understood, of having it be cared for… it was so large. As it crested in him, it transformed, morphed somehow into an inexplicable feeling of sadness. The desire to weep rose up in him, clutching deep in his chest. What the hell was this? Where did this come from? He was so surprised, he didn't even notice that a single tear was sliding silently over his cheek.

SSSS

Hermione felt the shift in the tenor of his breathing, saw the single tear, felt her heart break a little bit. Leaned over, spoke to him in a warm, soothing voice.

"Our muscles hold memories, Severus. The deepest tissues hold the deepest emotions. Massage can sometimes release what has been stored there. Weeping on the table is normal. Let yourself cry if you can. You'll feel better for it."

Awash in emotion, vulnerable as he could never remember feeling, her words resonated through him. He made no sound, but he allowed the tears to run, unchecked, down his face.

SSSS

Some time later, massage finally completed, Hermione stood, one hand resting on each shoulder. She stood their, her hands reminding him that she was present, until Severus' breathing crossed into the even pattern of sleep.

Hermione then quietly closed the patio door behind her, pressed her back to the cool glass, and let herself cry.

End Chapter 14

AN: Well, that was unexpected. I intended for the massage scene to be erotic, full of surpressed sexual tension…but it went somewhere entirely different. You never know when some random fact or experience will end up in a story. I've heard many times from different CMTs that catharsis of deeply held trauma happens all the time with deep tissue massage. While I've never burst into tears, I have experienced the sensation of feeling so cared for on the table that I want to cry from a combination of gratitude, and a vague ache of past loss. How much more meaningful would an experience like that be at the hands of someone who cares for you, who has a personal connection to you as a human being?

Oh, and for the yoginis in the bunch, Hermione practices Vinyasa yoga, with a bit of an Ashtanga slant to it.


	14. Chaos Theory

Chapter 15

Severus knocked on Mama Alevizos' door. Though it was not his usual time, he had no doubt of his reception. The door opened and her familiar craggy face broke into a welcoming grin.

"Sevroos!" She cried, as if it had been months, not days since she last saw him. She reached up, pulled him into her arms. "You have come to see me!" She looked him up and down with an appraising stare. "You look…different. You enjoyed yourself?" She waggled her grey eyebrows suggestively. "With Hermioneee?"

He sighed. "No Mama, it's not like that between Granger and me."

Mama humphed, shepherding him inside and shoving him down into a chair. "And why isn't it like that? She is not so skinny any more. You take good care of her; you make her strong. She is a good woman. You think she doesn't like you? Because that's not what Mama sees."

He looked up sharply. She laughed. "Ah, so you are interested! Good! I was beginning to worry about you. Sure, sure and she's interested too. She doesn't think about her husband so much any more. Haven't you seen the way she looks at you?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Even when she first got here her eyes followed you, always followed you. Now? She looks at you like you are a giant cake she is very hungry. So what is the problem? Why haven't you taken her to your bed?"

"Mama, I don't want to talk about it."

Mama chuckled. "Sevroos. I love you. But you don't come to my house after sundown unless you want to talk. So talk. It's about sex? That's okay! Mama likes to talk about sex! What is the problem?"

Severus sighed. "The problem is, I don't want to be interested. That woman…she is chaos. She makes life-altering choices on a whim. She ties her body into knots for fun. She makes a mess of my living room. She makes me run too fast. She fills my head with noise. She's, she's, she's a complication! A complication, that's what she is! I like my life simple and neat, and she ruins that!"

Mama smiled, handed Severus a tin of cookies. He took one and shoved the entire thing ferociously into his mouth. He chewed for a while, swallowed a mouthful of the milk Mama placed before him, and picked up another.

"She was a part of my old life, Mama. The life I don't want anymore." He got silent for a moment, put the extra cookie back down, then made eye contact with the person he trusted most in the world. "I was a bad man, Mama."

Mama smiled sadly, leaned forward and patted his knee. "Sevroos, bad man, good man, they are not so very different sometimes. Whatever you did, whatever happened that hollowed you out and brought you here empty as a shell, Mama is grateful." She leaned back in her chair and spread her arms. "Mama is grateful, because it brought you to me."

Feeling emotion rise up in him for the second time in a handful of hours, looked away from her dear face, and took a shuddering breath. Mama gave him a moment to center himself, Then handed him his milk for another sip. He picked up the cookie again. Took a small bite

"Now about this woman. She was from your past, yes?"

"Yes. And now she's here in this life, in my house. In my head. In my everything. It's complications on top of complications Mama. And I want a simple life. I am a simple man."

With that, Mama roared with laughter. "Oh, Sevroos." She wheezed a bit with each guffaw. "One thing you are most certainly not is a simple man. Whatever happened in your other life, whatever terrible things that brought you here, they are over. You are not who you were then. You are not empty anymore. Maybe it's time you tried on some complications for size. Maybe you might like complications now."

Seeing his confusion, she leaned forward again, put a hand on each of his knees, stared into his face.

"This woman, with her long legs and her sad eyes. She moves you, doesn't she? Mama sees it. She sees how you care for her. Feed her. Make her smile. She makes you crazy, yes, but she also makes you look at things differently. You are more alive."

She looked at him again, considered the obvious relaxation of his body despite his tense demeanor. "You are sure you have not loved her yet? You look like you have."

Snape scowled and shook his head.

She nodded, and said, somewhat hopefully, "Not even kisses?"

He drew his brows further together and glared at her.

"Okay. Not even kisses then, and yet she sends you to me in the early evening looking like you just left her bed. Whatever she did, she is good for you Sevroos. Trust Mama. Go home. Kiss this woman, then tell me that I am wrong."

SSSS

Hermione hadn't expected Severus to be comfortable with how their session had ended, but she had to admit to herself that she was hurt when he awoke a few hours later, and slipped from the cottage without even speaking to her.

It had been an incredibly intimate experience: to touch his body, to feel his response, to hold space for his tears, to guide him into sleep. There was no way that all that didn't mean something. It counted. She had felt the magic that bound them together_ flex_. Oh, yes, it had meant something. At least to her.

Intellectually, she understood that showing that level of vulnerability would be difficult for him. In all likelihood he would need to step back, digest the new intimacy before acknowledging it. She needed to have compassion for that. And she needed to respect that he might not want to acknowledge the experience at all.

Her brain understood all this. Still, his leaving felt like an abandonment. She realized it was the first time in the month that she'd been here that she'd felt the sharp dagger of loneliness in her heart. Oh, she had missed Ron, as she always did, but this pain in her heart didn't feel Ron-ish. This felt…oh, gods, it felt Severus-ish.

How on earth was she going to live here, be with this man, try to help him somehow, when she was so quickly falling in love with him?

SSSS

After the intensity of his conversation with Mama, Severus went down to Kristos' house. By day, the modest house with its two spare bedrooms served as a tidy bed and breakfast. At night, the folding tables and plastic chairs came into the front yard, crisp white linens were unfurled, and half the island came to gossip under the velvet night sky.

As he'd expected, Tedo was there, at his usual table, a Mezza of plates spread out before him, a bottle of Ouzo three-quarters full. Severus plopped down in the opposite chair, and answered the man's grunt of greeting with one of his own. Kristos, still conversing in broken German with the pair of overnighters in the corner, plopped another glass on the table and thumped Severus on the back without breaking stride.

The familiar chatter of the cantina coupled with Tedo's gruff affection were just what he needed. Tedo didn't care who was in Severus' bed, as long as he played a fast, brutal game, called out an invective or two, and matched him cup for cup. So the two of them passed a few heated hours at backgammon, worked the bottle, and affectionately cursed each other's parentage. By the time the bottle was empty, and Severus had walked the old man home, Snape felt his equanimity restored.

He let his long legs amble home. He was not drunk, for he rarely allowed himself to release so much control. But he had to admit that he was…pleasantly blurred. Enough so that when he walked into the living room, and found Hermione asleep on the transfigured sofa, he seriously considered slipping under the sheet and curling up against her warm skin.

Instead, he walked over to the side of the bed and knelt down at her side. Of their own volition, his fingertips moved forward, touching the silken fall of her hair. He wished he could release the spell on it, see her hair in all its natural chaotic glory. He smiled crookedly. Oh, she was an agent of chaos, this small woman. But perhaps Mama was right. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. He leaned over, and gently pressed his lips against her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Severus?"

"Go back to sleep, Hermione. I am home."

She smiled sleepily. "I missed you."

"And I you."

To his pleasure, and his disappointment, her eyes fluttered closed again, and she was once again asleep.

End Chapter 15


	15. Missing

Hermione rose at dawn to a strangely still house. She knew in an instant that Snape was still in his bed. She smiled. If anyone deserved a break in his routine, it was Severus.

Deciding that she deserved a break too, Hermione snuggled back down under her sheet, and let sleep reclaim her.

SSSS

This time, she was seriously considering chucking her Grimoire across the room. She visualized it flying, making a satisfying thud against the concrete wall of the living room. Instead, she closed it, carefully placed it on the table, muffled her face into the cushion of the sofa, and let herself scream.

Severus, who had been covertly watching the entire little drama from the doorway, floated in. He found himself disproportionately amused by her temper, mild as it was. It was like watching a kitten hiss and fiss. He let her muffle one more scream before speaking.

"What a charming display, Granger." He drawled, leaning indolently against the doorway. "Work going well, I see. Do you plan to put on any further performance art, or would you prefer to discuss your work in a rational manner?"

Hermione raked her hands through her hair, and sighed long and hard.

"Severus. Hi. Sorry about that, I thought you were at Mama's." She looked down at the book, shuddered. "I am missing something obvious. I have to be. It's like it's right in front of my face, but I'm blind as a bat. Not that bats are blind, actually. Arg."

She eyed the cushion, considered another round of scream therapy, then slumped back in her chair instead. "This is the right avenue, I can feel it in my bones…but I can't make the damned spell work."

Snape, who had been waiting many days for such an opportunity, gestured to the grimoire. "May I?"

She looked startled. "Oh, gods, would you?" She looked for all the world like she was overboard and he'd tossed her a life preserver. As if afraid he would change his mind, she scooted around the table, and quickly placed the book in his hands.

"Skip over the first hundred pages or so, they are worthless." She leaned over his shoulder and rapidly flipped pages. Damn he smelled good. "Here. Start with April, that's when I actually began to make progress."

She stood over his shoulder, watching him carefully as he began to read. He cold feel her there, practically vibrating in place. He pointedly paused, turned in his chair, and glared at her.

"Sorry, sorry." Chagrined, she raised her hands in a placating gesture, and began to back from the room. "I'll go elsewhere and let you read. Call me when you are done."

SSSS

He'd often mused that you could tell a lot about a witch or wizard from the Grimoire they kept. He had to admit that hers was exceptional. It appeared that somewhere along the way, she had finally stopped confusing quantity with quality. Her familiar handwriting formed notes that were succinct, well structured, and fascinating.

Wizard's Cancer. She was going after Wizards Cancer. The disease that had killed her husband. Of course. He had wondered about her work, and the talismanic way she carted it around with her. He understood now why it was that this book held such emotion for her. She was at war, and she was fighting an elusive foe indeed.

In many respects, a cure for Wizards Cancer was the wizarding holy grail…much sought, but never found. He had always considered it unachievable. But now? He felt a frisson of excitement. He could see in the first few pages that her approach was novel, and indeed, held potential.

As he read further, it fascinated him to observe her logic bend where his would have gone straight. There was an otherness to her thinking, a creativity that allowed her to make leaps he doubted he would ever have made. Oh, she had always been bright, but this was something entirely different. As a child her process had been so regurgitative. Now it was…well, it was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. But, by the same token, by the time he reached her current roadblock, he could identify at least six different possibilities, obvious to him, but that that she had neglected to consider. In magical thought, it seemed, they complemented each others' strengths.

He'd been wanting a magical challenge, had he not? To have such a juicy one fall into his hands…well, it was too much to resist. That working on it would entwine his life yet more fully with Grangers did not escape him, and yet, he felt, the challenge was worth it.

He closed the grimoire with a snap, knowing that the sound of it would bring her scurrying from wherever she had hidden. He was not disappointed.

"Well?" she said, trying, and failing to hide her anxiety. "What do you think?"

"One question. Is this work a task that you wish to accomplish alone?"

Hermione blinked. "Alone?" She stood, confused, until her brain made the leap. "You have an idea don't you? Oh, gods. No, I don't need to do this alone. I just need to do it. If you have answers, ideas, I'll be nothing but grateful to share the work with you."

He smiled at her, his eyes narrowed with predatory anticipation. "Then I think, Mrs. Weasley" he said, letting only the barest hint of his excitement show, "that together, you and I are going to find the cure to Wizard's Cancer."

SSSSS

In the heady thrill of the week that followed, they reached a new point of harmony. Every morning they rose, ran, showered, ate… then set out to do something that had never been done before. For Severus, their partnership was almost unbearably invigorating. Crammed into his basement lab, they investigated, debated, tried, failed, argued, attempted, postulated, recalculated, and failed again. Granger would rail at his calm, he would grumble about her lack of mental discipline, and together they would think in ways each knew they otherwise would not have. They worked like demons, consumed hastily constructed meals, worked more, then fell into their respective beds with the gratitude of the truly exhausted.

In the late evening, he insisted that they spend a single hour of waking decompression; it was usually spent together, in the calm beauty of the terrace. He knew enough about the working of his mind to recognize that decompression was necessary, and would only enhance their efforts over time. Whenever Granger would attempt to bring the conversation back to their work, it was he who had the discipline to insist that they let their minds consider other things.

It was as a distraction that he brought out the backgammon game, and attempted, to no avail, to instruct Granger on its graceful strategies. She played with her typical abandon, relying upon luck to rescue her after a foolish campaign. He enjoyed routing her disproportionately.

In revenge, she insisted that they alternate with a word game with small lettered tiles. That she could somehow beat him with words like "oxen" despite the beautiful multi-syllabic words he produced was a source of great annoyance to him. Still, he had to admit to himself (though he would have denied it to anyone else) the gales of her laughter that often accompanied her largest point scores were…welcomed. That the Slytherin snake within hissed "Jusssttt Kiiiiisssss herrrr" at seeing her so abandoned was again, not worth mentioning.

SSSS

When she had a moment to think, which was not often, she found it ironic. She was the one who owed the debtor's claim, and yet Severus was the one fulfilling a task of claim-filling proportions. His help on her lonely quest? It was like rain falling onto a parched place in her soul. She wondered now if this wasn't the reason she had felt the incongruous urge to visit this tiny island. Perhaps the fates had intended this partnership so that finally this dreaded disease would be conquered. If she hadn't owed him a claim before, she certainly would now.

And though it was torturous to her not to touch the now-familiar planes of his body, she did her best to resist. Unless she saw real signs of interest, she was determined not to inflict her desires on to him. He was doing enough for her already without having to cope with her prurient interest.

That determination was all well and good, but the truth was, had they not been so exhausted, she might not have been able to stand by her resolve. He was just so…delicious. Having daily access to that brilliant mind of his made her legs practically liquefy. Thankfully, her exhaustion kept her libido down to a relatively dull roar; she fell into bed every night and was asleep before her mind could form as single Snape-shaped fantasy.

SSSS

It was a few days later, after a particularly intense and frustrating day of decent progress and spectacular failure, that the two of them couldn't even manage the small demands of throwing dice. Instead, they sprawled on the patio during their Snape-mandated decompression hour, and slowly, tentatively, began speaking of their lives.

"You still miss him."

She smiled. "Of course I miss him." She looked up at the stars. "I love him. He was my husband for twenty years, and my friend for seven before that." She tipped her head up, looked at the stars. "But missing him hurts…less now. It feels… most of the time, like missing him is okay." She looked down, looked at him, judged his mood.

"And you?" She asked tentatively, knowing she was treading on sensitive ground. "Do you miss her still?"

His face, barely visible in the darkness, went tense and still. She thought, at first that he would deny the question. "I don't…" He sighed, reconsidered. She was still so sensitized to the nuances in his body that she could see the moment when he decided that she deserved an answer.

"No, I don't… miss her anymore." As he said the words, he realized they were true. "I feel…complete about it now. The pain I felt, the total agony…It's gone, has been for some time." He looked up at her with those unreadable eyes. "But she was never mine, Hermione."

Hermione felt her heart contract in sympathy. Losing Ron had been awful…but never to have had him? It would have been far far worse.

She took a chance, and reached out to lay her hand on top of his.

"I'm so sorry, Severus."

Snape nodded, and turned his face back to the blackness of the ocean.

SSSS

After that, the questions got, if not easier, at least smoother.

"But why him? Potter I could understand, but Weasley? The two of you always seemed…incongruous to me."

Hermione tipped her head back and laughed. "You weren't the only one. Gods, Severus, who knows? It was always him, though. Since I was a child. Harry was my friend, my brother. Completely platonic. And Ron never was. From the day I met him, he was a puzzle I couldn't crack. He was just…" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "He was what I wanted."

"And it worked? You lived with him, and did not fantasize of ways of killing him?"

Hermione hooted with pleasure. "Well, of course I fantasized about killing him sometimes! He was my husband. But most of the time he made me fell treasured, and wanted, and safe, and he made me laugh until my sides hurt. He kept me from taking life too seriously. And when the chips were down, when I needed him, when I really needed him. He would be there, even when he really couldn't understand what the hell was wrong with me." She looked at Severus. "It just…worked."

He watched her talk of him, watched the emotions flash and fade one after another, but over it all he saw a layer of…contentment.

"It does not make you sad to talk about it? Does speaking of it not remind you of your loss?"

"Gods, no. I mean, I never forget, so I can't be reminded. And it actually feels great to talk about him. It's like honoring his memory. He is a part of who I am now."

He looked at her radiant face. Considered. And resolved to ask more questions about the redheaded menace in the future.

SSSS

"So what do you miss most?"

"About the magical world?"

"Yes."

He considered. "The ability to make magic everywhere without concern for who might see me. To call upon it whenever I wish."

Hermione nodded.

"I guess I can understand that. Your magic is just so damned beautiful. Not being able to practice it how you'd like to…it must be like a concert pianist without a piano."

He nodded, appreciating the analogy. He still found it...interesting that she was the first other than him to recognize the beauty of his magic.

"What else? Chocolate Frogs? Firewhiskey? Paintings that talk?"

He thought about it, but had very little difficulty finding an answer.

"Dueling. Not life or death dueling, although that has its…allure. I miss Dueling for sport."

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Let himself remember. "I miss the incredible acuteness of mind. The intensity of it. The thrill of battle."

Hermione grinned. "Well, that, at least, we can fix. I wouldn't mind a little dueling practice myself. Might be fun. Besides, we're both fried beyond belief. I say tomorrow we take the day off, pack up a picnic, and go see if you're still as fast as you used to be."

Severus' eyes narrowed. Was she baiting _him_? "I assure you, Granger, you needn't worry about my speed."

"Oh yeah?" She said, challenge all over her face. "Prove it."

End Chapter 16

AN: At this point, I'd like to comment on how much your reviews have meant, not only to my always-hungry author's ego, but also to the meat of this story. Over the past sixteen chapters, the process of writing this story has become almost collaborative. In several instances, major plot points, directional shifts, and character developments have come as a result of your reviews. And I'm not talking necessarily about your explicit suggestions, although those too have proven helpful. Often, it's something innocuously complimented that changes my thoughts in mid-stride.

So please, if you have a thought, good, bad, indifferent, pass it along to me. One never knows which of you might next slip on the gossamer robes of muse-in-chief!


	16. Draw

Chapter 17

They'd taken today's exercise to the far south of the island, the wilder, open ocean side, as far from casual eyes as they could get. It was a lovely, rugged spot, strewn with brush and boulders, without a single tree to shade them from the vicious sun. That she could hear the waves crashing below only added drama to the sere landscape.

Her portion of the Protego Occulum charm complete, Hermione walked forward. Her spell might be more utilitarian than Snape's gorgeous concoction, but it worked just as well. Anything that happened within their dueling arena would be entirely invisible to any islander that wandered by.

"Ten minute rounds?"

Snape nodded, his eyes particularly unreadable, his hand already holding the familiar shape of his wand.

She picked up her phone and set the timer.

"Five minute resting periods?"

He nodded again.

"Formal, of informal protocols?"

At that a small smile moved over half of his mouth. "Formal, of course."

"Do you wish to attack, or defend?"

That small smile was back again. "What do you think?"

And so, the phone chimed, and they bowed, assumed the positions of attacker and defender. Snape, the attacker, uttered the official challenge. "Defend yourself!"

She deflected his first hex easily, countering with a swift nonverbal that he turned aside with a flick of his hand. The second jinx was tighter, with less telegraphing, and by the fourth exchange, Hermione needed all of her attention to counter. She couldn't yet tell if he was faster than Harry, as she had the sense that he was holding back. But he was fast enough that she was working. Hard. Thankfully, Harry had insisted that she keep up her dueling skills even after the war's end, and he'd been a relentless taskmaster.

SSSS

She was fast, he'd give her that. Far faster than he'd thought she would be. An even match for his moderate dueling pace. But now, nearing the end of their first engagement, he was beginning to decode her tells. An eyeflick for jinxes, a twitch of the lips for curses, a jaw that clenched for hexes. The snake within snickered. _Eassssssy pickingssss._

No, the witch would not be able to keep up for long.

The sound of harp music from her phone signaled the end of their first match.

"Draw." He purred.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She was covered in sweat, and breathing heavily, and he, well, he was just gliding around the circle, looking for all the world as if he'd just strolled here for a bit of sightseeing. The bastard was toying with her, that's what he was doing.

She'd put an end to that soon enough.

The timer signaled the beginning of the second match. He came at her a bit faster this time, but still with the easy grace she recognized from his warm-ups, before he added on the speed. Mmmmm. So he had room to stretch, did he? Better cut off that avenue as quickly as possible. If he was anywhere near as good as he had been reputed to be, he should have her tells by now. All the better.

Hermione tested her theory with a stinging hex and saw, indeed, that he had gotten there before her. Excellent. So she clenched her jaw, signaling a hex, and waved her wand in a hexing zigzag while actually sending off a wordless jellylegs jinx. He recognized her ploy a second too late, and though he deflected the majority of the spell at the last moment, the brush of it left him with one leg partially numbed.

She couldn't help it. The look on his face as he lost knee control was simply too good. She burst into laughter. The distraction was all he needed, and suddenly she found herself petrificused from the neck down. Which only made her laugh louder, as she thunked painlessly onto magically softened grown. She howled her laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. Still, she could hear Snape grumbling, as he stalked over, one-legged to release her enchantment.

SSSS

She is laughing at you. _Kisssssss Herrrrrrrrr_ the snake insisted.

SSSS

Instead, he hauled her up by her shoulders, roughly set her on her feet.

"You think that was funny, Granger?"

"Oh, I do," she chortled, "I really, really do."

Eyes narrowed, he combined his finite incantatum with a jellylegs of his own, so that when he released her she had a moment to gain her balance before she splatted down rather unceremoniously. The surprised look on her face led him to snigger out loud.

"Well, Granger, you're right," he said, pointing at her ignominious position, "that is funny."

Her eyes snapped, giving him just enough warning for him to dive out of the way of the stinging hex she threw his way. And for whatever reason, that made him laugh all the louder. When her next hex made his hands itch, he hooted with delight, and suddenly, they were both laughing hysterically, throwing the most childish jinxes each had in their repertoire. Soon Hermione was leglocked, knockneed, and covered in some kind of disgusting slime, and Severus' purple head and green hair was waving around like a flag as he did his best to evade the baker's dozen of small angry birds she'd set on him. The two of them were hobbling and hopping and flailing around the dueling circle laughing so hard that half the hexes they tried fizzled or fell entirely flat.

The sound of harp music called them to their senses, and they made their laborious progress back to the starting point.

"Draw. Though I must admit," he huffed, winded more from laughter than from the exercise, "that was not quite the contest I had in mind."

Hermione giggled. "But it was fun. Would you please remove this stinky stuff, I can't stand it."

"I will do that" he huffed, "as soon as you call off the birds." They were, even now, doggedly attempting to peck their way through the shield he'd thrown across his shoulders.

This caused Hermione to devolved into laughter again, much to Snape's consternation. Her laughter made it too hard to ignore the snake's insistence.

Jussssstttt Kiiiiiisssssssss Heeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,.

He paused, suddenly riveted by the contour of her mouth which, he noted was ripe and red from exertion. It opened slightly under his studious regard, which had the curious effect of instantly silencing her laughter. He met her eyes.

This would not do. He pulled his discipline around him like a threadbare cloak, stepped away, then cleared the enchantments from her suddenly serious person.

SSSS

That time, she hadn't imagined it. He had been considering kissing her. His long-lashed eyes had focused on her mouth, his breath had paused, he had leaned in, and her body, gods, how her body had reacted, with all of the blood rushing to her center, and her lips already tingling in anticipation.

And then he walked away. After all that, he set her aside, again.

The timer rang again to announce the final round, and this time, Hermione was no longer playing.

SSSS

He sensed the change in tenor almost as soon as the match started. In the first match, she'd been sandbagging, setting up false tells so that she could disarm him later. In the second match, she'd been playing, but in this match, she was in earnest, and displaying a skill he would have much admired had he not been puzzled by its sudden ferocity.

She was fast. Damned fast. Not his equal, but by far faster than his usual partners had been. He called on every trick in his repertoire to keep her at bay, and keep her from hurting one or the other of them, for he noticed she was no longer stepping carefully over the bushes and stones of the rough terrain. He had wanted to experience the thrill of combat again? Well he was experiencing it, and it was thrilling and frightening in equal measure. And for the life of him he had no idea why he was being treated to such intensity.

The tinny sound of the timer called out, and gratefully he watched her lower her wand and turn away. He sighed in relief. They had both survived whatever_ that_ was.

Granger had her back to him, and as he moved closer he was surprised to see her shoulders shaking with sobs. What the hell was this? Had he tagged her with a curse? He was sure that he hadn't, having used exclusively defensive spells for the entire intense match

At a loss, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders, unconsciously mimicking the way she'd comforted his own crying jag.

"Hermione. What is wrong? Did I hurt you?"

She whirled in place and pressed her cheek to his chest.

"Oh, Severus. I am so stupid. So very very stupid."

Doing his best to comfort, he began to pat her back.

"You are not… stupid, Granger. The dueling experiences I endured in my years of dual servitude were cruel and quickly raised my skill level beyond that of any classroom. It was the most intense training possible, and has given me an advantage against all I've ever fought."

Hermione looked up into his face with shocked eyes, and began to laugh.

_Kissssssss Herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. _

"You think this is about the dueling?" She shook her head? "Seriously? Could you be more clueless?" She stopped laughing. "I'm in love with you, you arsehole. I'm in love with you, and I can't think about anything but kissing you, and wanting you." Tears began to pool in her eyes. "And you think I'm worried about the fact that you're faster with the wand than I am?"

She shook her head and began to walk away from him. "I can't do this anymore."

SSSS

He should have let her go. He wanted his life back, didn't he? He should have let her take her hurt feelings all the way back to London. They'd figure out some kind of way to dissolve the bond between them remotely. Then both of them would go back to the lives they were meant to live.

But though he didn't understand the impulse, didn't understand how strong it was despite his intellectual wish for freedom, he couldn't let her go. He found, to his surprise, that he wanted what she'd offered. Craved it. Had wanted it, perhaps, since the moment she'd plucked his magic from the sea. So, unbidden by him, his long arms reached out, grabbed her shoulders, whirled her around to face him. The snake unfurled.

_Yesssssss!. Kiiiiissssssssss Herrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._

He raised his right hand to the back of her head, fisted it in her hair. Pulled her body into contact with his. Breathed in the scent of her.

"Granger," he said, his voice deep and gravelly, "release your hair."

Hermione, her entire body shocked by the intimacy of his hold, barely managed a response.

"What?"

"Your hair. There is a spell on it. Release…your…hair."

Hermione limply gestured, and her hair exploded into a mass of curls. Snape nodded once in satisfaction, then slowly lowered his lips down on to hers.

SSSS


	17. A Strong Heart

Chapter 18

Trapped in his hands, Hermione felt her entire body signal surrender. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it, he could take it.

That mouth, that beautiful acerbic, erotic mouth, slanted down onto hers. Had she known he would taste this way, dark and delicious and earthy as an aged wine? It was as if she could kiss him, had been kissing, him for lifetimes. He tastes like his magic, a small voice in her head pointed out. That's what it is. Then her mind ceased to think at all.

SSSS

He was lost. His fingers were lost in the mess of her hair, his tongue lost in the pleasure of her mouth, his control lost in the echoes of her laughter and tears. He was standing here, the sea winds buffeting him, her small body bent backwards in his hands_, thrumming_. Powerful. Focused. Achingly alive.

He did not know what she was offering, he only knew that he wanted it, wanted her. Wanted very much to acquiesce to her insistence, for she was tugging at him, urging his body down to lay with hers upon the soft earth.

_Yessssssssssssssss._

If the snake had kept silent, he might have willingly gone with her to the ground. But the snake's voice, insistent upon its own pleasure, called him back to the present. He had learned to temper the voice of his most selfish, self-serving aspect. This was not some tourist he had picked up. This was not any lithe, willing body pressed against him. This action would have _consequences._ This woman… mattered.

And so, though his body protested, and the snake screamed at the interruption, he ended the kiss. Kept them standing. Resisted the urge to trace his lips and tongue down the contour of her throat. Instead, he released her hair, steadied them both as they gasped for air, as their heartbeats stilled to the pace of the roaring surf. He saw her body shudder, so he tucked her back into his chest, wrapped his arms around her and held on.

SSSSS

Hermione came back to herself all at once, like a free-diver reaching for the surface. She had been floating, wrapped in the tide of her own responses, and then she broke through, and was once again aware of the world around her. The salt air, the sunlight, the wind, the man whose heart was even now pounding under the shell of her ear.

That his heart was pounding calmed her, assured her that she hadn't been alone in her thundering response to what should have been a simple kiss. Merlin. Whatever had stopped him, he would have his reasons…he always did. And so, though she wanted very much to lose herself again in the glory of his mouth, she let him hold her instead, content to be in his arms with the sounds of the waves as accompaniment.

For several minutes, they stood embracing. Then, slowly, as if by mutual decision, they disentangled.

Severus turned to stare at the ocean. That had not been…ordinary. There was something disturbing about the magnitude of his physical response to this witch. But that was secondary at the moment. At present, he was focused on what she had said before he lost control of all reason. That word.

"The word you used, Hermione."

"Arsehole?" She said, hopefully.

He snorted, shook his head. "No, though I must commend you on that… colorful choice. The other word."

She sighed. She knew exactly what word he was talking about. "Love?"

"Yes. That is the one." Though something deep within him wanted to watch her face, he watched the waves roll in to the shore instead. "It is a big word."

Hermione nodded, turned her own face to look at the sea. "Yes it is. I hadn't really _planned_ on saying it."

He raised both eyebrows. "I had no idea you ever planned anything." A moment's pause. "Nonetheless. Was that word choice a product of a transient burst of emotion?"

Hermione shook her head. "'Fraid not."

"So, this is a word that you feel…describes your feelings for me."

"Yes." She sighed again. "I'm pretty sure it does."

His face was sober. "I am…" He chose his words carefully, strangely reluctant to cause her pain, "…not sure I can return it."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her chest. "You don't have to. My emotions, my responsibility. But I want you to know: I'm not asking anything of you. That's why I didn't intend to say anything. It just doesn't make a difference."

He looked at her sharply. "Oh, it makes a difference. Do not delude yourself." He turned back to the ocean. "I'm just not sure what that difference is."

The two of them returned to staring at the water. After several minutes, Hermione spoke.

"I just hope that today doesn't ruin it."

He frowned. "Ruin what?"

"Our friendship, our working relationship, whatever this crazy thing that we've been doing together is."

"That would indeed be a loss." He paused. "But it can not be ruined if we do not let it."

Hermione released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Okay, then. We won't let it."

He considered. "Be that as it may, given these…complications, I believe we should not… act upon our physical urges at this time."

She looked at him, smiled ruefully. "I was afraid you'd say something like that." She turned away again, her curly hair rioting in the wind. "It was a good kiss, Severus."

"No, Granger. It was an extraordinary kiss. And I find that…problematic."

They stood there, silent for a moment, listening to the sea.

SSSS

She needed to get out of there. Needed to be away before the tears that kept threatening to roll found their way down her cheeks. One thing this man did not need was for her to place more emotional demands upon him now. She did her best to offer him a tremulous smile.

"I need to go back now. Could you, um, stay here for a while? I think I need some time to myself. Okay?"

He nodded. "If that is your wish."

She walked over, and pulled her rucksack onto her shoulders. She had already taken several steps towards the village when he called to her.

"Hermione?"

She turned and looked over her shoulder. She could count the number of times he'd called her that on one hand.

"What you said… about loving me…" He looked at her with intense eyes. "I do not know how…I am not…" he sighed. "I am not…uninterested."

Her face serious, she nodded, and resumed hiking.

Severus Snape stood there, the wind ruffling his dark hair, and watched as she walked away.

SSSS

An hour later, Hermione's face was pressed to the cool grain of Mama's kitchen table as she quietly sobbed. Mama was moving about the kitchen, clucking like a mother hen, assembling her ubiquitous pot of oregano tea and cookies.

Hermione made an effort to gain control of herself, availing herself of the giant box of Kleenex Mama had placed at her side. After a couple of deep nose blows, and a few shuddering breaths, she was able to speak again. "I haven't cried like that since I got to Arki.. I guess I was overdue. Oh, Mama, I'm sorry to do this to you. I just didn't know where else to go."

Mama clucked, and set a tea cup in front of her. "Hermioneeeee. Don't be silly. Mama is not afraid of a few tears. I've shed a few of them myself from time to time. Now, drink your tea, and tell Mama what is wrong. It is not your husband this time. It is Sevroos, yes?"

Hermione snuffled. "Yes, it is Severus. Mama. I think…he said I didn't, but I think I may have ruined everything."

Mamas face, serious, peered into hers. "Hmmmm…..so, what did you do?"

"I told him…" Her eyes began to well up again. "Mama, I told him that I loved him."

Mama let out a woosh of air, and her face split into a giant grin. She clapped her hands and lifted Hermione's face up to hers. "Oh, Hermioneeee. This is wonderful!"

Hermione shook her head. "No it's not. He doesn't love me back."

Mama scoffed, still grinning. "He does not? Says who? The boy? This is not what Mama sees. And Mama sees everything." She took Hermione's smooth hand into her warm wrinkled ones, and patted it affectionately. "He is a good boy, Sevrooos. But he is only a man. Their feelings…they never talk about them, so they never know. Women. We know our own feelings. Yes?"

She snuffled her assent.

"Of course we do! This boy. His feelings are…very strong. It is not easy to live with very strong feelings. He struggles. He moves so slowly. So afraid to make a mistake. Mama sees it. He does not yet know how to live with what you make inside him. You must make him understand."

"Oh, Mama." She shook her head hopelessly. "There were so many people…who made him do things before. I don't want to make him do anything. If he loves me, I want it to be easy for him. I want it to be his choice."

Mama laughed at that. "Love is never a choice, Hermioneee. Love is, or it is not. And easy? Was loving your husband easy at first? Did he never bruise your heart?"

Hermione said nothing, easily recalling the early agony of loving Ron.

She lifted Hermione's face and smiled broadly "You are a good girl. Your heart is strong. Yes?"

Hermione shrugged.

Mama, undeterred, pressed on. "Do not shrug your shoulders at me. You love your husband. Yes? You hold him. You cherish him. You give him children. Then you walk by his side to the gates of death, help him through. It is not everyone who can do this. But you? You see no other way. That is a strong heart. A heart that knows love."

Hermione felt her heart thump in answer. Maybe Mama did see everything.

"A heart that can do this, Hermioneeee, is a strong heart. A heart that can do this… can do anything. What is a little pain to a heart like this? Nothing."

Mama walked over, and took Hermione's hands in hers once again. "You must trust your strong heart. You must trust Mama." She squeezed. "There is love in his heart for you. You must be patient. You must be strong. Your heart must decide to love our Sevroos for as long as it takes for him to understand that."

Hermione Granger Weasley, her resolve descending upon her like a comforting blanket, smiled, and pressed her lips against Mama's cheek.

"Mama. We are so lucky to have you."

Mama clucked, and refilled Hermione's cup.

SSSS


	18. Struggles

Chapter 19

SSSS

The walk home was long and frustrating. Trust Granger to complicate things even further than they already were. As if the debt bond had not been enough, now she'd had to bring love into the picture.

Why was she doing this? Did she want to drive him crazy? After all, his first foray into love had been so successful. Why wouldn't he want to jump into that murky pond, drown in its misery again? Oh, he understood that love was supposed to be the pinnacle of human experience. But he was happy enough with his island, and his running, and his books, and Mama fixing him breakfast. Wasn't he? Why should he risk all of his hard earned serenity on the flimsy promise of a happy ending?

And what about her? Given that she'd just crawled out of what she'd described as a soul-searing pit of loss, why on earth was she so eager to give her heart away again? Did she not realize that every romantic relationship ended either in divorce or death?

At least she knew how to run a successful relationship. She had stayed with one person for twenty years, had his children, lived to tell the tale. He? He'd loved once. And it had nearly killed him. To open that Pandora's box again seemed foolish at best; at worst, it neared suicide.

If he were smart, he would end this relationship before it went any further. Put Granger on the next ferry, buy one of those dratted cell phones and promise to text her the solution to their debt bond as soon as he could figure something out. Then he could be done with this entire chapter of his life, and go back to his pre-dawn solitude and his translations and his afternoons playing games with Tedo. The idea of it left him bereft.

Snape sighed. Apparently, he was not that smart. Though it galled him still, he…_liked_ having her around. He liked hearing her laughter in his house. Watching her temper rise when work went poorly. Complaining about her atrocious meals during her turn in the kitchen. Checking his wards at night and seeing her curled into her little ball on the transfigured sofa. Watching her breath rise and fall in sleep.

He was…fond of her. That's all it was.

Why had she changed everything? Hadn't she been happy enough with their beautiful shared work? Hadn't she been content with the peak-experience of striving to do something that had never been done before? Did she not recognize how rare it was to find a mind that so completely complimented her own? Could she not be satisfied with that? Why did love, with its confusion and mess and despair have to enter into it at all?

And what about that kiss? Why should the simple act of pressing his lips to hers feel so blasted important, like he'd opened a portal to another world? And why was he so deeply petrified of closing the door again?

The more questions he asked, the less he liked his answers.

SSSSS

Over the next week, Hermione watched Snape with determined compassion. He was struggling. That was clear. He had not laughed since their play in the dueling circle. Though he made good on his promise not to let what had happened ruin their working relationship, the lightheartedness of it all had melted away. That he was troubled was obvious. He ran even more like a demon than usual, pushing himself beyond comfort regularly. Despite this, she noted that he'd ceased sleeping well; she often heard him wake in the night, and sit on the terrace for hours. And when awake, he looked at her with what she could only describe as baffled hurt.

So she made extra efforts to soothe him. To touch him, to hug him, to reassure him of her affection. At first, he resisted those efforts, scowled deeply each and every time she reached out to touch him. But as the days passed, she found that he began to soften, so that hugging him was no longer like wrapping her arms around an unyielding tree, and occasionally, he even lifted his arms around her own body.

Every time he did, her soul would simply sing. He was moving towards her. Cautiously. Reluctantly. Unhappily. But moving towards her nonetheless.

End Chapter 19

AN: My apologies! I had some versionitis, which caused me to post the wrong versions of both chapters 18 and 19. They should be fixed now. Ugh. Apologies also for the brevity of this chapter, as well as the delay in the posting. After the enormity of the last chapter's revelations, I found myself well and truly stuck for the first time this story. Oh, I know what comes next, and I already have chapters 20-23 drafted. But I felt I needed a transition, a way to show the beginnings of movement in Severus's heart. I wrote and discarded about 6 versions before I finally got this one. It's short, but hopefully it gets the job done, so that we can all move on!

Theolyn


	19. Parting

In just five more days, she was going home. She had booked her flights, alerted the ferryman. Told anyone in the village who would listen. She was going to see her children.

Oh, they'd been keeping in touch via text messages and the ministry's relay between owl and muggle post. But those dry methods hadn't answered the questions a mother wants to know. Were they happy? Eating well? Growing? How had their features matured? Would the grief in their faces be lighter than before? Would they like the presents she had collected for them in her travels? Would Rose still let her cuddle with her on Christmas Eve? Would Hugo take one look at her, and know that something had changed, that she'd left more than her work back on Arki?

There was only one fly in the ointment. Severus. That prickly, brilliant, sexy, reluctant man. Oh, he was being a pill, had been ever since she had pointed out that she'd be going home for Christmas. It was as if all the tentative progress they'd made had been washed away by that one revelation. He'd become as surly and distant as he'd ever been. If she hadn't known better, she'd have said that he was…punishing her for leaving him. But the voice in her heart, as well as the thrum of the debt magic, which had very much liked the intensification of their relationship, reassured her that the effect was temporary.

Strong heart, she said to herself, and though he was often truly unpleasant, she redoubled her efforts to support him.

SSSSS

Once again, he could not sleep.

She was leaving for a month. A month. Now. Now that he found himself…counting on her presence. Now that he marked his days by her activities, now that he found… comfort in her company, now that there was this, this_ thing_ inside of him making him crazy, she was leaving. And she was happy about it!

Oh, sure, she'd invited him to accompany her. To use a glamour, travel with her to London (to London!) and meet her children, share the holidays in their home. She'd described the chaos and the ripping paper and the meal with great enthusiasm. Talked to him of snow on the walk and frost on the windowpanes, and late evenings curled together by the warmth of a fire. But he'd assured her that he did not care for cold weather, and would enjoy having his house to himself again. The time without her would fly by.

The snake within him had hissed in amusement.

_Liiiiiiaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrr_…

To a Slytherin, lying to others to protect one's own interests was acceptable, laudable, even. Lying to oneself? It was a contemptible practice. Such behavior served only fools and weaklings without the strength to acknowledge their innermost workings.

Fine. So he was in love with her. How was that for honesty? Though the nausea rose in him, he noted with pride that he did not vomit at the thought.

He waited for lightening to strike him dead. Surely such an admission, even to himself, was significant enough to warrant a celestial catastrophe of some kind.

But nothing happened. The world did not explode. Choirs of angels did not descend. His heart ached, but it did not instantly immolate into a burning cinder.

Okay, so he loved her. But that didn't mean he should surrender to it. Run away and spend Christmas with her and her children as if they were…a family. It was ludicrous. He would probably hate her brats and he had no doubt that they would take one look at him and loathe him on sight.

No. He would remain here, on Arki, where he belonged. And she would come back…or she wouldn't. His heart contracted at the thought. Either way, he reminded himself, he would survive.

See? He'd only admitted to himself that he loved the witch two minutes ago, and already it was dire. Where was the proported giddiness of love? The pleasure? Shouldn't he at least feel remotely happy?

_Say the wordssssss…then you'll seeeeeeeee._

Sometimes, he hated that damned snake.

Disgusted with himself, he resumed his midnight pacing.

SSSSS

For the past few days, he had been, he suspected, a pouting, spoiled git. And yet, she'd taken his unpleasantness with good humor and even affection. She…humbled him. Now, it was their final day together. He could continue to make both of their lives miserable, or he could at least attempt to make their final time together…pleasant.

So he took extra care preparing their evening meal, stuffing squid with cheese and oregano, dredging them in egg and breadcrumbs, and frying them in sheep's milk butter. He'd learned long ago not to let her near the stove. How a woman could be so skilled at potions, and so miserable in the kitchen defied all reason. So she just sat there, smiling as he moved about, sipping a glass of wine.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together.

"If I didn't know better, I'd assume that you were sandbagging to avoid sharing kitchen duties."

She smirked. "Who says I'm not?"

He snorted, handed her a pile of vegetables. "Cut. Do not remove any digits in the process."

"Aye aye captain."

SSSSSS

They'd started a game of backgammon, but had abandoned it, as Granger was in one of her garrulous moods, and he, reluctant to part from her company, had simply leaned back in his chair, game pieces forgotten, to listen. Somehow, over the recent weeks, he'd forgotten how much he simply enjoyed listening to her chatter.

At present, he was listening to Hermione ramble on about her children. It was the first time in many days that he did not feel…jealous of them for taking her from him. Now that was an embarrassing bit of self-revelation. He shuddered. Jealous about the affection a mother showed to her children? Did love always make one pathetic?

He made an effort to focus upon her words.

"Oh, you'll love Rose. I'm sure you'll be able to teach her to play proper backgammon. She's already a demon at chess. She and Ron started playing together when she was only five. By the time she was twelve she was winning half their games. By the time she was fourteen, he rarely won at all. I kept waiting for it to bother him, he'd always been so proud of his skills there…but it never did. He was thrilled that Rose was better than he was. He used to say it was because she had his strategic sense, and my intellectual firepower."

"And the other?" he asked, curious despite himself, "Is the boy a chess prodigy as well?"

Hermione laughed. "Hugo? No way. Hugo's my dreamer. Mediocre at school work, decent at charms but can't put together a potion to save his life. But give him a Hippogriff and he'll have it eating out his hand in a minute. He tamed a Cornish pixy when he was 6. Evil little creature. Hated the rest of us, but was utterly devoted to Hugo. Still visits him at Hogwarts from time to time, causes a ruckus.

"He's a little…otherworldly. Hugo, not the Pixy. Children love him. Wherever we go, some young child or other finds him. Rose says at Hogwarts, the little ones come to him with their scraped knees and their homesickness. He has enough love for everyone, that boy."

"So he is…soft?" It did not sound like he and this other child would have much common ground.

"You'd think he would be…but he's not. Can't stand a bully, and Harry's drilled him into one heck of a dueler. Only time he ever gets in trouble is when he catches someone picking on someone else. He just can't stand to let anyone be in pain. It's as if he sees the heart in people."

Sees the heart in people. And what would Hugo see in him, he wondered? A man so befuddled by the thought of loving his mother that he would rather make both of their lives miserable rather than accept his feelings?

Hermione took a sip from her glass. "Listen to me, blathering on about my kids. Funny, now that I know I'm going to see them soon, it doesn't make me ache to talk about them." She placed one of her warm hands and laid it atop his. "Really Severus, you've been a champ to listen for so long. You should get a medal. Oh, I've been meaning to ask you. Anything I can bring for you when I come back in January?"

He retrieved his hand, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a long piece of paper.

Hermione snorted. "You have a list? Of course you have a list." She began to giggle as she reached out to collect it from him. Gods he loved her laughter.

List bedamned. Instead of handing her the paper, he closed his hand around her wrist. With a slow tug, he pulled her towards him.

She looked at him with uncertainty. "Severus?"

"Hermione. I should like to hold you. May I?"

Her face looked shocked, but she nodded anyway, and let him settle her into his lap. It was awkward at first, but that feeling was fleeting. In its place grew a sense of contentment. With her warm body filling in the hollow of his, the scent of fig wafting around him, the stars twinkling above, he felt…at peace. He wrapped his arms around her, and held on.

Perhaps loving her would not be such a bad thing after all.

SSSSS

Being held by him, like this, in the velvet night…It was intimate, and sweet. The night air was cool, and his body was warm, and suddenly the length of the day began to press upon her. She was just drifting along the edges of sleep when his resonant voice brought her to wakefulness.

"Hermione." He said, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "You will come back, won't you?"

Her sleepy voice replied. "Severus, wild thestrals couldn't keep me away."

SSSS


	20. Gifts

Chapter 21

Over the years on Arki, he had actually managed to grow fond of the Christmas holiday. It was quieter here, without the relentless expectations it had had in Wizarding Britain, and thus, he found himself actually looking forward to the sparse decorations the village would set up, as well as the enthusiastic, albeit poorly tuned performances that took place at the Taverna on Christmas Eve.

But this year, he could drum up little enthusiasm. In the week since Hermione's departure, he had found himself listless, restless, and bored beyond belief. For a man who had always believed that boredom affects only the boring, it was a sad state of affairs. He needed something to take his mind off of her, but as yet, no occupation had been up to the task.

Worse still was the aching in his chest. He…yearned.

Still, he was a member of this community, so an effort to participate must be made. As was their custom, Snape escorted Mama to the Christmas Eve concert, and back again.

In the morning, he made his semi-annual appearance at religious services. Mama insisted on his attendance at Christmas and Easter, and though he did not share her religious leanings, he had capitulated long ago. Not that he minded: the rustling of the crowd, the droning of the priest and the smell of the incense was soothing when in the right frame of mind. Which, this year, he most certainly was not. But at least it gave him the opportunity to ask the priest about the status of his gout (miraculously improved!).

Even his smug satisfaction at having outwitted the cagy Spaniard could not long add luster to the day.

SSSS

After a restless attempt at an afternoon nap, he walked over to Mama's. Over the course of the day, every soul on the island would stop by her terrace for an hour or two in the Christmas sunshine. Each would bring some small item they had made themselves, and receive a tin of cookies in return. They would drink a glass of jug wine, laugh a bit, and then move on.

Normally it pleased him to be in the thick of it. He used the Christmas visit as a vehicle to check up on the health and wellness of each islander, and ascertain if there was anything that was within his power to improve the quality of their life.

But today his heart simply was not in it. Instead of monitoring and evaluating the people around him, his mind kept turning to Hermione. It visualized in great detail the scene she had painted for him: the frost lying thick on the windowpanes with razor-sharp Rose, and dreaming Hugo would ripping paper from brightly colored boxes. All three of them sitting down at Hermione's table, attempting to eat whatever bird she had undoubtedly overcooked, all the while pulling crackers, and singing carols and listening to Hermione's rich laughter.

He found himself wishing that he could be there.

SSSS

"Ah, Sevroos!" He turned to watch as Mama joined him by the railing. "Mama has been watching you. How is my good boy today? A little sad, no? Missing someone?"

He scowled, which just made Mama laugh.

"Ah, Mama sees everything. Here. Come come. Mama will fix."

She dragged him over to the potted olive, its single strand of colored lights flashing gaily, and pointed to a pile of brightly wrapped, bulky boxes. "These are for you!"

He looked at the boxes with dismay. So large? What the hell had she gotten him?

"Mama, I told you to make me cookies. Like everybody else!"

She chortled. "And I did, I did. But these boxes…they are not from me. They arrived on yesterday's ferry, and were delivered here with instructions that they were for you."

Dumfounded, he stared. "Hermione?"

Mama, having missed none of the stunned pleasure that leapt into his face, nodded, and put a card into his hand. "This came with it. Go ahead. Take it and the boxes home to open."

SSSS

Without using his wand, Severus was forced to accept the aid of Darious' hulking nephews just to get the boxes up to his cottage. Then he had to offer the required thank you of Ouzo, which both nitwits accepted. And then a second glass, since neither seemed in a hurry to wander back down the hill. Thankfully they passed on the third, for he was seriously considering applying a subtle hex to send them on their way.

And so, by the time he finally took a breath, and opened his card the sun was already low in the winter sky.

SSSS

_My dearest Severus, _

_I hope that this gift arrives before Christmas; I have paid an arm and a leg for express service, but we both know how well that works in the islands. _

_At any rate, I know this is a bit of an extravagant gift, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to find something that was worthy of your passion, and once my brain set upon this I just couldn't compromise. _

_Besides, you have always reminded me of a concert pianist with your brooding demeanor and your beautiful articulate hands. You can, of course, bespell it, but I am rather hoping that you will enjoy the challenge of learning it the hard way. I look forward to watching those long fingers of yours flying over the keys._

_My time with Hugo and Rose has been wonderful…they very much want to meet you. But I miss you. Very much._

_I love you Severus. Merry Christmas._

_Hermione._

SSSS

He read the card. Reread it. Pondered it. Carefully tucked it back into its envelope, and placed it aside to read again later.

Then he reached for the smallest package. A book. "Alfred's Complete Teach-Yourself-Piano Course."

In the second box, a piano bench, awaiting assembly.

In the third, a stand of some kind, also requiring assembly.

And in the final, heaviest box, a Yamaha digital piano. Curious, he plugged it into the socket, pressed a key, and was surprised that it sounded not like the tinny keyboard at the island school, but like the aged Steinway in the Hogwarts music room.

For the first time since Hermione's departure, he could feel interest rising in him. He opened the book. Read the first few pages. Easy enough. Placed his right hand on the keyboard, and following the instructions, played the melodic line from Beethoven's "Ode to Joy."

His face lit up with satisfaction. Music. He was making music.

SSSS

Three hours later, he was still at the keyboard. Had she known that he would find so much pleasure in the act of creating noise? That it was noise was without debate, as the songs in the first half of the instruction manual were purile at best. BUT, and this filled him with great satisfaction, there were certainly songs that would not be noise in the manual's later pages. He figured that at the rate he was consuming the material those things would be his in a matter of months. In a year or two, he would sit at the piano, and play anything he wanted.

It was language acquisition, physical challenge, and intellectual stimulation all in one. It was an entire world waiting for discovery. He could feel his brain expand in a satisfactory way after every unit completed.

It was the most magnificent gift anyone had ever given him.

For the first time in his life, he felt _known._

SSSS

Mama spread some honey on his bread, and handed it to him, amused at Severus' twenty minute long discourse on the wonders of his piano. He had just spoken more words than she usually got out of him in a month-long period.

"…and then I moved from C position to G position. I've just learned a pleasing bit called Alpine Melody, it's rather continental. Sounds like it should be echoing out across Chateau D'oeux."

"Well." Mama said, hiding her smile in her teacup. "It certainly seems that our Hermioneee has chosen wisely."

At her name, Severus groaned, and dropped his head down onto the table. "Oh, Mama. What am I going to do about that woman?"

Mama patted him on the back of his head, none too gently. "For the love of a good girl? Whatever you have to." She poured him a bit more tea. "Is it so very bad?"

The look he lifted to her was utterly wretched. "I am in love with her Mama. And I am very very afraid. She gave me a piano. She loves me even when I am bad-tempered. What am I supposed to do with that? I don't even know how to start."

Mama smiled, got up and retrieved a piece of paper. "Then start with this."

He looked down. In Mama's hand was a scrap of paper obviously torn from a shipping label. On it, in Hermione's neat script, was written a London address.

"Tell her thank you."

SSSS

Muggle travel was torturous. His long body was crammed into a tiny uncomfortable chair, leaving his knees wedged into the back of the chair in front of him. The air was stale and dry, and filled with the coughing and sneezing and mewling of hundreds of people. The substance being served as food was plainly inedible. And all this misery was crammed into a small metal tube, which was hurtling through the air without the benefit of protective spells of any kind. Barbaric. Give him the wretched nausea of apparation any day.

To make matters worse, his current attire, a new pair of chinos and a dark woolen sweater, felt outrageously confining after years in linen. And the glamour he'd added on his hair and nose had obviously distorted his features into an aspect that was entirely too welcoming, as strangers had insisted on attempting to _talk_ to him all day.

By the time he arrived at Charles De Gaule airport he was tired, cross, and smelling decidedly ripe. Oh, he'd had just about enough of this. He cancelled his connecting flight to London and took a cab to Tant Pis, the Parisian equivalent of the Leaky Cauldron. There he ate a lovely cassoulet, drank a fine glass of wine, showered, rested, then arranged to catch the next morning's Portkey to North London.

End, Chapter 21


	21. Arrival

Harry Potter was climbing the stairs in the Ministry of Magic when he felt a buzzing from his left pocket. He'd given up the lift two months ago when he'd first begun to note that Ginny's cooking was beginning to stick to his ribs. So, he was on his sixteenth flight, and puffing a bit, when the pocket first began to hum. At first, he assumed it was that damned cell phone Hermione insisted that they all carry. Funny, he could swear that he'd left that on his desk back in the auror's office. It was such an great paperweight.

He slipped a hand into his pocket, and drew out the culprit: not the cell phone, but a small wooden box.

Twenty years ago, he had placed a single bloodstained hair inside that small wooden container. For twenty years it had remained on his person, in one pocket or another, or on his bedside table. For twenty years, it had lain dormant. But now, here it was, buzzing with the insistence of an enraged hornet.

Heart racing, Harry Potter turned around and began to race down the stairs towards the nearest apparition point.

Severus Snape had returned to London.

SSSS

Intent as he was on reaching Hermione, it took him several blocks to realize that someone was following him. Two minutes in London, and already something had gone wrong. The wizard following him was skilled, but still, he should have noticed sooner. Well whatever he wanted, it was time to find out. So Severus Snape turned a corner, and prepared for confrontation.

The moment the follower rounded the corner, Snape had his wand buried next to his jugular.

Oh, time had passed, and he'd ditched the ridiculous spectacles, but there was no mistaking the dunderhead who was, at this very moment, nearly impaled upon his wand. Potter. Of course. Who else. At least he'd had the sense to round the corner palms outstretched in the universal gesture of surrender. Otherwise Snape might have hexed first and asked questions later.

"Professor?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Professor Snape, is that you?"

Snape sighed. So much for his anonymity.

"Yes, Potter. How…," his eyes narrowed. "The portkey. You monitored all of them, or did I simply have the misfortune to select the wrong one?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "All of them. I set it up years ago, hoping to have the chance to talk to you. When the ping came through this morning, I could hardly believe it." He took a deep breath and began to speak all in one rush: "Professor, you suffered so much on my behalf, and I"

"Stop!" Snape bellowed, a look of horror upon his face, "I have no need of any more debtor's bonds."

The look on Harry's face grew amused. "No, I…I would never do that to you, I'm guessing being chained to me would be…unpleasant for you. Unless I'm wrong on that, and you'd like to have me claim one, of course. Because I would if you asked."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. A mighty headache was brewing right between his eyes.

"Never mind Potter. Just say what you have to say and be done with it."

Harry took a deep breath, and drew himself up to his full height. "Professor, you suffered so much, on my behalf, and on the behalf of all of us. I just wanted to tell you how much I regret that I was too young and too stupid to have recognized you for what you were. A true hero. You are the bravest man I have ever known. On behalf of the wizarding world, we thank you, and will honour you forever.

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Did you practice that speech for long?"

Harry snorted. "Only a couple of years, really. After that it was memorized."

"As usual, what you lack in poetry you make up for in sheer Gryffindor treacle. You may consider your message delivered." He walked two steps before his conscience got the better of him. This man was Hermione's friend. With a sigh, he turned back around. This was a pill better swallowed quickly.

"I understand that my clean escape after the final battle was at least partially due to your interference. Let that even the scales between us."

Harry looked shocked. "How did you? I never…You spoke with Hermione? But when?"

Snape said nothing.

After a moment, understanding bloomed on Harry's face. "Oh. You. You must be the wizard on the island. The one who…oh." He looked at Snape with intense green eyes. He took a breath, blew it out audibly. "Well, I guess I can see that."

"Potter, what are you blathering about?"

"Hermione is my best friend. We talk. About things that are important to us. Although, well, for understandable reasons your name was never mentioned." At that, Potter smiled. "Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you around then."

"Regretfully, yes. Good day Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled. "Good day sir. Oh, and here. This is for you."

"And it is…"

"The locus I used for the portkeys. Once it is destroyed, no one will ever know if you chose to come and go."

Snape nodded. Examined the box, looked inside.

"It is…nicely fashioned." He raised his wand, and muttered "Incendio." The box poofed into a satisfactory cloud of smoke.

As the smoke cleared, Snape examined the man beside him. Older, and a bit less…annoying. And smiling at him…affectionately.

He is Hermione's friend he reminded himself. You must make an effort.

"Your spectacles. You were still wearing them in the last photo in the Prophet."

Harry blushed. "Oh, I had my eyes lasered years ago. I just wear the glasses at public appearances. That way, when I don't wear them, I can, you know, mostly just slip by. People always expect me to be taller."

Snape snorted.

"Mr. Potter. Without those glasses you do not look so very much like your father."

A slow grin bloomed on Harry's face. "Coming from you, Sir, I'll take that as a compliment."

"As it was intended. Goodbye, Potter."

"Goodbye Sir."

ssssss

AN: I am woefully behind on my responses to your reviews…but know that I read them all, and they continue to be quite influential to how the story unfolds. Several of you questioned why Snape used muggle conveyance to travel to Paris. My thought was that part of the reason Snape has been able to remain anonymous for so long is that he has lived an entirely muggle existence. To grab a portkey in Athens would have been risky. It's a much smaller community than the ones in London and Paris. It would have required him entering their magical community and there would have been questions.

I think the fact that he went to Tant Pis, and used the portkey to London means that he is less fearful that his identity may be discovered. He knows it is a risk, and would prefer to avoid it…but he is no longer terrified by the notion.


	22. Doorways

Severus Snape, his hand fisted to knock, paused, and laid his palm flat on the door in front of him. Hermione's door. Painted glossy red. Smooth and cold beneath his fingertips. The portal to her house. To her children. To her life.

Once he passed this threshold, he knew, everything would change. Crossing would signal his willingness to proceed forward with their relationship. This was not a friendly visit, without notice, across a continent, during the holidays. This was a man declaring that he could not wait two more weeks to see his woman. Hermione would know this. His presence here was him saying, here is my heart: do with it what you will.

Surely, any sane man would turn and walk way.

Instead, heart pounding, breath uneven, Severus Snape made a fist and rapped on the door.

SSSS

One final night of calm before the chaos of the Weasley New Year's Eve. Hermione savoured this time alone with the kids. They'd spent the afternoon baking together, and now were each engaged in their own pursuits. Hugo was buried in a book, Rose was playing a warcraft game on her new laptop, and she was snuggled under a throw, sipping tea and thinking. She loved nights like this. In a bit, she might suggest a scrabble game before dinner, squeeze out just a bit more interaction, but for now, she was content to enjoy their nearness. To enjoy just being with her family. It wasn't the same without Ron. But it didn't feel broken anymore. It was different, but whole.

Gods, how she wished Severus was here, to be part of this scene. Not that it wouldn't be awkward of course. Hugo had accepted the news that she was in love with someone with naked joy and the assurance that unless he was crazy, the wizard would come around. Rose had been a little less receptive. She found the fact that the man Hermione was in love with had not declared himself to feel the same way a deal-breaker, and declared that she did not like the sound of it. Of the two of them, she was always the more protective. And she had always been a show-me type..it was one of the things she admired most about her daughter. She needed evidence, but once she got it, she would reverse her stance in a heartbeat. So it would be awkward between those two at first, no doubt...but still, she wanted him here. With her. In her family.

She'd been writing to him every day. Not that she had any hopes that her letters would reach him long before she did. But she had become so accustomed to watching out for him, caring about his well-being that she simply could not break the habit. She'd come to believe that he needed to hear the words almost as much as she needed to speak them. And so, she sent chatty, affectionate letters his way, hoping, somehow, her love would calm the turmoil in his heart.

She wondered for the dozenth time if her present gotten to him on time. She rather felt that it had. There had been a trill through the bond late Christmas day, and she was willing to believe that somehow it was a sign that her gift had been accepted, cherished even. But that was purely speculation. If only she'd sent a cell phone with it, she could have called him to find out. Ah well. The waiting wouldn't kill her.

Speaking of cell phones, she'd gotten a couple of very strange texts from Harry this afternoon, including one on how she didn't need to feel obligated to join them at Molly's tomorrow. He and Ginny would swing by and pick up the kids if she wanted. She assured him that of course she was planning on coming, but had received no further reply. That man. Sometimes she knew him like the back of her own hand, and sometimes he was just a mystery.

A knock at the door. Well, that was probably him, come to talk out whatever had him in a twist. A smile on her face, Hermione opened the door.

SSSS

She'd expected Harry to be standing on her stoop. Instead, there was a man with light brown hair, an average nose...and eyes that could only belong to one person.

"Severus," she breathed, her heart suddenly racing, "Severus."

"I am here." He raised his hands to reach for her, then dropped them again. "If you want me."

Hermione, eyes blurry with tears, moved forward. With him standing one step below her, they were exactly the same height. "I do," she said, voice thick, "you know that I do."

With open eyes, he pressed his lips to hers.

SSSS

Gods, how had she forgotten this? The taste of him, the texture of him. It was overwhelming, despite the fact that she was aware of two very curious faces moving into her peripheral vision.

Hermione, her lips burning from that chaste press of lips sighed, and pulled away. She smiled. "Guess it's time for you to meet my children."

SSSS

"Rose, Hugo, this is the friend I told you about." She turned to him. "What should they call you?"

He knew exactly what she was asking. He raised his wand, and removed his glamour. Children, even as old as these, smelled lies far more easily than adults.

"I am Severus."

Hermione squeezed his hand, nodded approvingly.

Rose's amber eyes, already narrowed, grew sharper. "As in Snape."

He nodded.

Hugo's eyes widened. "Really? The Snape?"

He nodded again.

"Wow. Mum. That's really...wow."

Hermione snorted. "I'm glad you approve, Hugo. As you can imagine, this information is...sensitive for Severus. I know I can trust the two of you to be discreet."

"Family only?" asked Hugo.

"No. Not even family. Not now. Just the three of us."

Rose and Hugo made eye contact, nodded, then said in unison:

"Agreed."

Rose walked over to him. He knew from his conversation with Hermione that she was sixteen, and it appeared she was one of the lucky teenagers who transitioned to her adult form without the indignities of acne and awkwardness. Like her mother, she was petite, with a graceful build. Unlike her mother, she had a fall of ruler straight auburn hair. She looked up at him with fearless, direct eyes. In his years as a teacher he had become quite good at evaluating children quickly...and this one was...something else.

She stared at him, assessing, then announced in a matter-of-fact tone. "I already have a father, you know."

Intrigued, he responded in a similar tone. "I do."

"He is dead. But he's still mine."

"Indeed."

"And I'm not in the market for another."

Had he not sensed how important this declaration was to her, he might have smiled. As it was, he treated it with the gravity that it deserved. "Your preference has been noted."

"So long as we're clear about that." She stuck out her hand, which he noted was a duplicate of Hermione's. He grasped it.

"Welcome, Severus Snape," she said, with great ceremony.

"Thank you, Rose Weasley," he said, allowing himself a small smile.

Hugo, who had been watching their interaction with barely held impatience, walked forward and stuck out his hand. In physical form, at least, he had not chosen as wisely from the genetic pool. Though a year older, he did have faint acne. He was tall, like his father, and awkward with it, like a puppy with overly large feet. His hair was unruly like his mother's, but his nimbus was a bright Weasley red. And yet, despite this, or perhaps because of it, there was something engaging about how all the various pieces came together.

Snape slipped his hand into the young man's, and instantly felt a presence inside him. It was similar to the sensation of legilimency, but more diffuse. He looked down at the boy sharply, but the boy's face had transformed from cautious to radiantly joyful so quickly that he set aside his reservation.

"Oh! Wow. That's...um. Well, welcome, Severus." He smiled broadly. "Welcome."

"Thank you Hugo."

Hermione, who had watched the interactions with amused tolerance, reached out for Severus' hand and led him over to the sofa. "Alright, welcome wagon, time for you two to scram."

SSSS

They began very much how they ended, with him sitting, and her curled up in his lap. He felt a knot of tension within him unfurl with her nearness. Perhaps, tonight he would finally sleep. As he thought that, a small movement by the door caught his attention.

"Hermione, you are aware that the children are looking in upon us with a small scope right now?"

Hermione shrugged. "MmmmHmmm. What they see is their problem, isn't it? Kiss me again."

And so he did.

SSSS

"So you liked it."

He smirked. "I hardly sat elsewhere for three days. I've mastered the first quarter of the manual already. Mama had to climb up the hill because I missed our breakfast. I thought she would tear my ear off."

"Good. About the Piano, not the wrath of Mama. I hope to never see that."

"It is...intimidating."

She giggled, as she was meant to, and then sighed. "Severus, I don't want to rush you...but I opened the door, and you were there," she took a shuddering breath, "...and my heart thinks it means something, and, well, I need you to tell me where you are. I need you to tell me what this means to you." She teared up. "Because if this is just a visit between friends, I'm going to need some time to come to grips with that okay?"

He put one hand to either side of her face. Took a deep breath. "You sent me a piano. You knew me enough to send me a piano. No one has ever known me that way before. Gods help me, but I am in love with you Hermione. I am terrified, and utterly at a loss as to what to do about it, but I am in love with you."

Hermione, tears streaming down her face, smiled. "Okay. We can figure out the rest together."

End Chapter 23


	23. What Hugo Knows

He awoke to a pair of amber eyes staring directly into his...the wrong pair of amber eyes.

He and Hermione had been up half the night, talking, kissing, touching. Neither of them had wanted to consummate their relationship with the children sleeping in the same house, so all evening they had skirted the edges of their passion as well as they could. Hermione had said she felt like they were teenagers snogging, but he had skipped that stage of typical adolescent behaviour, so he had no such comparison to offer. Regardless, he found it...stimulating. Had they been truly alone...well, it was better that he not think of that now, especially with Rose sitting on the floor by the transfigured sofa, staring at him.

"You are awake." She said, loudly, and with no remorse.

"I am now," he said, dryly. That earned him a smirk from the rose. "You wish to speak with me. Speak."

"Hugo says you've figured out that you love her."

He cringed a bit internally, but answered honestly. "Hugo has correctly assessed the situation."

"He says that you would protect her with your life."

That one, at least, he could answer without hesitation. "As I would either of you."

She raised an eyebrow, as if unimpressed. "He says that you're not too happy about any of it."

"He says a lot of things, doesn't he?"

She shrugged. "Well, is that part true?"

He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. "It is."

"Well," she said, eyes hard, "Get over it. She has been sad for so long. She deserves someone who will be happy to love her."

With that, the rose, and her thorns, left him to his morning.

SSSS

He didn't manage to get a moment alone with Hugo until much later in the day. He found him in the reading room; it was obvious that in this family, as in his own cottage, given the choice between guest room and library, the books had won. Hugo's gangly body was draped catty-corner over one of the four wingback chairs: one long leg spilling off one arm, one stretched out in the proper place, one arm dangling almost to the floor, the other held a tome above hiz frizzy head. Snape could envision no way such a position could be comfortable.

"You are 17, well beyond the restriction against underage magic. You could transfigure the chair into a larger form."

Hugo shrugged. "I've been sitting in it my whole life. I'm used to it."

Severus shut the door. Placed a silencing charm on it. Hugo carefully put his book down; Snape noticed that he did not look remotely surprised by his precaution.

"You were expecting this conversation?"

" Well, I'd wondered if you would come to talk to me. You know, don't you? I saw you figure it out."

"I knew an empath once, years ago. A student at Hogwarts."

Something sad moved into Hugo's beautiful warm brown eyes. "Did he make it?"

Severus shook his head. "He was thirteen when he took his own life."

Hugo nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. It is a little…overwhelming when it really sets in. It goes from whispers to shouting in a matter of days. Makes your brain feel like it's under attack from all sides. Run into someone in deep grief, or new love, and…well, it's a little hard to hold on to yourself. You kind of get...swept away."

"And you?"

Hugo smiled. "I'm good now. I can mostly turn it off, only let in what I want to feel. I got Uncle Harry to teach me Occlumency, and I adapted what I learned. It's not perfect, but it keeps me sane, helps me turn down the volume."

Severus winced. "Your Uncle's skills in that arena lack a bit to be desired."

Hugo gave him a mild look of rebuke. "He got better. Good enough to save my life anyway."

Severus nodded his acceptance. "Point taken. Do they know? Your mother, your uncle?"

Hugo shook his head. "Dad was already dying by the time I figured it out, and mom was in so much pain, and I couldn't add to it. What she felt…well, let's just say I'm glad that she got through it. Now that she's better? Well, I guess I could tell them, but why? They'd only worry. So few of us make it through to adulthood...I figure I'll wait till I get there, then tell them. " His eyes became sad. "I never did tell my dad."

"And Rose?"

Hugo snorted. "Rose knows everything. She figured out what was happening to me before I did. She's the one who researched what I could do about it, convinced Uncle Harry to teach us when he was convinced that we were too young. But she's the only one who knows. And now you, of course."

"Very well. I will respect your right to keep this secret, but in return, I ask that you confide in me. You said you could "mostly" turn it off. What does that mean?"

He nodded. "Things still get through...it's distracting sometimes. Especially in classes. But it's nowhere near what it used to be. I can live with it now. I get by."

"Getting by is not sufficient. May I examine your shields?"

Intrigued, Hugo sat up straight in his chair and nodded.

Snape pulled his wand, muttered "Legilimens."

He dipped into one of the most remarkable minds he'd ever touched. His shields were not opaque like Occlumency shields, nor were they similar to the complicated visions he'd created to distract the Dark Lord. Instead, they were a glittering silver lake lying over a part of his brain that was incredibly _different._ He felt that part reach out to him, try to touch him, even here, within Hugo's own mind.

The shield prevented the contact. To Snape it looked as if you'd taken a large Patronus, and transfigured its matter into a shimmering liquid. He imagined that it would mirror back most emotions. It was flexible and yielding, but permeable. A very good start for what the boy would need to do. But it needed reinforcement. Layers. Reserves. He examined the structure for a moment. Nodded with satisfaction, and withdrew.

"Adequate. Your uncle is apparently a better teacher than he was student." He looked steadily at the young man before him and smiled. "But we can do better. Will you trust me?"

Hugo smiled. "I already do."

End Chapter 24

AN: Two posts in one day. I am such an overachiever today! But it's so easy to write about Hugo. I think I may actually be a little in love with him.

BTW, As of two hours ago, I have officially begun working on SS/HW lemons. I know, you thought they'd never arrive. But they are almost here. And thus, I invite you to request any particular type of lemonade you might feel like drinking…no promises, of course, but you never know!


	24. Don your Helmets

"Mmmmm...How about the new blue shirt I bought you? It really picks up your eyes."

Hugo rolled said eyes in his head. "I had no idea I had dropped them. Mum. I _can_ dress myself. And I can have a perfectly nice time at a giant family New Year's Eve party without you. Seriously."

Hermione sighed. Sat down on the bed. "I know. I know. I guess I'm overcompensating, eh?"

He laughed, and plopped down next to her. "Just a little bit. But it's cute. You nervous?" He patted her on her leg. "You know, about spending the night alone with Severus?"

Hermione lunged to her feet. "Okay, okay. I am so not going to talk about this with my son."

"Why not?" Hugo laughed. "Mum, I do know that you are not a virgin, given the fact that I'm here and all. And I'm guessing Severus isn't either. And you both really like each other."

"Because it's not appropriate, that's why not. You're 17. You're supposed to be preoccupied with your own sex life, not your mother's."

Hugo smiled ruefully. "Well, if I had a sex life, I would be preoccupied by it. But since I don't..."

Hearing the wistfulness in his voice, Hermione instantly threw her arms around him. "Hugo, neither did I at seventeen. But the point is, when the time is right, the right girl is going to fall head over heels for you. And once she finds you, she'll never let go."

He smiled, let his mum comfort him. "Actually, Severus makes me feel better about that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Mum, he's really not that good-looking. I mean he's sort of interesting-looking, but not handsome. Like me. But you look at him like he's a giant steak or something. I figure if a guy like that can get a woman like you to look at him that way, to feel about him the way you do then there is probably someone out there for me too."

Hermione pressed her lips to her son's forehead. "I guarantee it."

SSSS

The front door having just closed behind her kids, Hermione turned around and faced Severus.

"Finally. They are gone. I feel like I just organized an expedition to the moon."

Snape, who had just witnessed the inordinate amount of preparation it took for two teenagers to groom and dress themselves for a family event, could not disagree.

Hermione blew out some air, and plopped down onto the sofa. "You don't even know the half of it. Not to mention that my seventeen-year-old son just attempted to give me a sex pep-talk."

Snape snorted. "Did he? Your son is...perceptive. Did you require such encouragement?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I haven't had sex in more than 3 years, and I've only had sex with one partner, and it looks like I'm about to have sex with a man I've been lusting after for 4 months, and upon whom I had a crush for most of my adolescence and..."

Those eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead. "Stop. Repeat that last part."

Hermione huffed. "I will not. You have an eidetic memory. You know damned well what I said. Besides, it wasn't really a crush, it was more like occasional inappropriate fantasies." She shook her head. "which sounds even worse, doesn't it? And what if I don't remember how? I mean, I know it's like riding a bicycle, but it's like I don't even know where I put my helmet. And then there's the fact that I've had two children, and gravity is beginning to tug on everything, so yes, I guess I do need a pep talk."

"Hermione, regretfully, 'pep talks' are beyond my skill set. However, I can point out some facts to you."

Hermione, amused by the seriousness with which he was taking her semi-serious rant, gestured for him to continue.

"First, your body is...beautiful to me. Even before I knew what I felt for you, I longed to touch you. You needn't have any concerns on that score. Second, you do not, technically have to do anything. I am more than willing to accomplish everything that needs to be accomplished anatomically. And third, I have never before been intimate with a woman I loved. It is I, not you, who am in unfamiliar territory."

Hermione blinked. "Well, Severus, for someone who claims to not give pep talks, you give a damned good one." She reached out, and stroked a lock of hair out of his face. "Are you nervous?"

He reached up, trapped her wrist, and smiled in a way that made her stomach flutter. "Nervous would not be the word I would chose. Do you have need of a contraceptive charm?"

She nodded.

"Cast it. Then we can see if you remember where you placed your helmet."

SSSS

He lowered his mouth to hers, expecting, but still gratified to feel the impact his kiss had on her body. As his tongue reached into her mouth, she melted into him, every surface of her body moving in, every muscle relaxing save for her arms which were pulling him closer. He understood the need. Every fibre in his being was demanding just that, that he get closer, that he bury himself in this woman. Their height difference meant he could not make full contact with her body and still claim her mouth, so he reached down, placed a single hand on each of her buttocks, and lifted her up until they were eye to eye. She wrapped each of her shapely legs around him, bringing their bodies into exquisite contact. A sound, part growl, part moan, escaped his own mouth as she tightened her legs around him, as she held on.

Hermione took the opportunity of being up so high to shift her mouth, change the angle, pull his succulent bottom lip between her teeth. She noted with surprise that she wanted to sink her teeth into it, sink her teeth into _him_. Resisted. Instead, she trailed her lips over his chin, his stubble rough under their sensitive flesh. Moved further, down the muscular column of his neck, amused by the gooseflesh that pebbled beneath her wherever she went. He moaned deeply when she opened her teeth, let them sink into that column of muscle. Gods, she wanted this man.

She moved her mouth back to his ear. Licked it. Pulled the lobe of his ear into her mouth to suckle. Savoured the groan that came out of him. Whispered.

"Severus. Take me upstairs."

She did not have to ask twice.

SSSS

She had wondered if it would feel strange, to have another man in her bed. But this wasn't another man. This was Severus, and his long body was pressing in to her, and there really wasn't anything that she would change about that. Except for the clothes. There were too damned many of them. So she was the one who broke apart, stripped off her shirt, and began the task of unbuttoning his. He stopped her, pulled the entire thing up over his head, revealing the broad plane of his chest. Before she could savour that, he reached down, and unceremoniously stripped off the rest of his clothes. He was entirely naked before her, unashamed, beautiful, and extremely aroused. Hermione felt her body react at the sight of him. Merlin.

She reached down, began to work at the fastening of her jeans, when his graceful hands replaced hers.

"Let me." He said, in a voice that was so deep and languid it made her shiver.

He deftly unhooked the waistband, and began to slowly peel the denim off the length of her legs. When that was completed, he pulled off her socks, again with a deliberateness that was almost ritual. He lifted her leg in his hands, pressed a single kiss to the arch of her right foot, then began to trail his lips up the sensitive skin of her calf. He inched upwards, now, kissing, now nibbling, now tickling with a whisper light caress. Arrived at her thigh, massaged the muscle with his fingers, tortured it with light kisses, and as she'd done with his neck, slowly sunk his teeth in to the muscle of her inner thigh, making her moan and thrust her hips forward with need. He made a throaty sound, half laugh and half reassurance. He moved up to the small scrap of her panties, tracing the tip of his tongue under the edge of the fabric, while she quivered beneath him.

Granger was writhing now, reaching ineffectively for him, but he would not be rushed. She was wearing green lace under things. They should be...celebrated.

The snake agreed.

He opened his mouth, pressed it to the green lace, let the warmth of his exhaled breath caress her through the flimsy material. Sent his right hand up to explore the curve of her lace-covered breasts. Noted her reaction when his nimble fingers skimmed over her nipple. Nibbled a bit at the flesh of her inner thigh, then, chuckling in anticipation, pulled her panty to the side so that he could taste her. Savoured. Used the tip of his tongue to caress her folds, dip into her, slowly, gently. Let the pad of his fingers rub against the taut peak of one nipple, savoured the deep, uneven rasp of her breath. Smiled against her, then settled into a slow, building rhythm.

SSSS

Gods. He was driving her crazy. He would take her right to the edge, use his mouth and his tongue to bring her to the full, aching point just before inevitability, and then he would change his stroke, back off, soothe her back down again. Then when she could finally take a breath, he would drive her up again. And all the while the need for him, the slippery ache to have him inside her, was growing more insistent, so that she felt as if she didn't have him soon something irretrievable might happen.

She moaned, tried one more time to pull him up to her, felt his flat denial to be shifted as he applied himself again, rolled his tongue over her, pinched the peak of her left nipple, and pushed her, easily, unexpectedly, brutally over the edge so that she was coming, over and over again, moaning his name.

"Severus."

SSSS

The female body, with its mysteries, tastes and textures had always fascinated him. But to work Granger was different. Their sighs had been satisfactory. Hers...were like food. He wanted to consume them. He wanted to make her pant and writhe like he wanted to fill his own lungs. The snake within him was gorging itself on the sensation of claiming her, making her his.

_Finaleeeeeeeeeeeee..._

That his own body was throbbing, so aroused that it was a wonder there was enough blood left to power his brain, was of little consequence. He would take what he needed. But first, first, he wanted to hear her say his name again.

When she did, he slowly moved up her flushed, damp body, press his mouth to the soft sweetness of her lips, and then gently, achingly, wilfully, slid inside of her.

SSSS

"Oh, Gods." Hermione said, much later. "Are you alive? Have we survived it?"

He barked a laugh. "That remains to be seen. I have not yet regained feeling in my lower extremities."

Her laughter, always near the surface these days, spilled up and out of her mouth. "Me neither. Who needs legs? Speaking of which: yours weighs a ton. Move it."

He did, which necessitated moving several other limbs from the tangle of their entwined bodies, which made him aware that it was actually bloody cold in this room. He summoned the blankets that had somehow made their way halfway across the carpet, and threw them over their sweaty, flushed bodies.

"Granger," he said, once they had settled, "I believe your helmet has been located."

She snorted. "I think I located several of them actually. Now I need to try them all on and decide which one fits best."

He nodded seriously. "I will endeavour to assist you in this important task."

She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "I was rather counting on that. Oh, gods. I need the loo." She looked despondently at the door to the restroom. "How the hell am I supposed to get there?"

He looked at her, seriously, and pronounced, "Very carefully."

She noted with great satisfaction that when she burst out laughing, he did too.

SSSS


	25. Carbohydrates

The doorbell rang.

Hermione, who only moments before had ridden him to a sweaty and tumultuous finish, shrieked with joy, tossed on a ratty bathrobe and ran downstairs. He, by contrast, was still trying to locate his language center. The last few hours had been...primal. In his early years with Tom, he'd engaged in several prolonged sexual marathons, but they had been dark, depraved experiences. One entered into them, and set one's self aside, became "other" for the duration.

This, while no less carnal, had been interspersed with laughter, intimate conversation. He had been present, physically and emotionally for every sweaty, ridiculous round. The amplification of pleasure had been...remarkable.

He heard her feet pounding up the stairs and smiled to himself. How could he have known how enjoyable he would find her chaos?

Cheeks flushed, hair irretrievably tangled, ugly robe flapping, she returned with a giant paper bag.

"I have Foooooodddd!" she proclaimed, lifting the bag overhead with all the triumph of a returning huntress.

Snape, still nude, and lounging somewhat languidly on the surface of the bed, grinned, and applauded, albeit half-time.

She curtseyed, and began taking out boxes. "Salmon Curry, extra spicy." She handed that one to him. "Veggie Curry, medium," she kept to herself. "Dosas!" She proclaimed, moving the box over head when he lunged for it. He pinched her thigh, and when she screeched, neatly nipped the box out of her hand.

"Cheater!"

"There is no cheating when it comes to food. If you wish to apply for a dosa, I will hear your petition."

She looked inside the bag. "Pass one over or the garlic naan is mine."

His eyes narrowed. "I could take it by force."

She withdrew her wand from her robe pocket and wiggled her eyebrows. "Try it."

He sighed, a carbohydrate exchange was brokered, and the two of them refuelled their bodies with gusto.

SSSS

Later, curries consumed, as well as most of a pint of ice cream, the two of them sat by the fireplace. She was still in her ratty bathrobe, and he'd thrown his boxers on in a nod to modesty. She'd turned on the radio, which was counting down the last minutes of the year.

"The piano. I will master the piano."

"In a year? That's a bit ambitious, don't you think?"

He stared at her balefully.

"Alright! Alright. You will master the piano this year. And I...I will learn to cook one meal beautifully."

He snorted, then attempted to hide it with a cough.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. You are going to teach me. Those little stuffed squids."

"I am?"

"You are. Oh! One minute left. Here we go! Stand up."

He looked at her, stuck his spoon back in the carton, levered a large mound of dark chocolate up to his mouth. "Why?"

"Because it's almost the New year. And it's traditional to kiss the person that you love when the clock strikes twelve. For twelve months of luck."

He tossed his carton aside, and rose from the sofa. "Luck is a poor substitute for effort. Our year will be good, because we will make it so. But I will kiss you anyway, because it pleases me."

Hermione felt a thrill run through her as he stalked towards her licking chocolate off the corner of his lips.

"You please me, Granger. Every last chaotic inch of you."

From the radio, they could hear the countdown. _Ten...nine...eight..._

He bent down, looped an arm behind her legs, and swept her up into his arms. Sniggered when she squealed.

_four...three..._

"Granger, there is no going back. You are mine now."

"Damned right, I am," She said, just as the radio proclaimed the new year.

She grabbed his face with both hands, and lifted her mouth up to his.

_End Chapter 26_


	26. Allies and Opponents

Sleeping with another person was...an experience. First, his war-trained reflexes woke him every time Granger shifted. Second, there was a terrible moment when a hank of her hair ended up in his mouth causing him to think he was being suffocated. And third, there was the incident when he, innocently of course, claimed more than his fair share of the covers, which resulted in his gentle bed-mate emphatically confiscating all blankets from his person.

He could see that the new arrangements would take some adjustment.

On the other hand, waking with her warm backside pressed up to his morning erection seemed more than adequate compensation for those small inconveniences.

Suspecting that she would be sore from yesterday's extended play, he very gently slipped inside her. He heard the welcome in her sigh, savoured it, and then proceeded to drive them both to an easy, shimmering peak in the early morning light.

SSSS

Several hours later, Snape was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, when the front door opened and a shout rang through the house.

"Mum! We're home!"

This declaration was followed by footsteps clattering towards the kitchen. Rose was first through the door.

"Good morning, Rose. Your mother is currently in the shower."

Rose took off her handbag, plopped it on the table, helped herself to a mug, and poured herself a cup. He raised an eyebrow.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "It's the weekend. We're allowed. And don't you look...different." She appraised him rudely. "Had a good time, did you?"

Hugo, who had followed his sister into the kitchen, plopped his own bag onto the table, and served himself a cup as well. "Oh, leave off, Rose. He's happy."

Severus frowned at the boy, and Hugo laughed, albeit nervously. "I didn't peak, promise, it's just all over your face. Believe me, if Rose can tell, you don't have to be an empath to see it. Ow!" he muttered half-heartedly when she punched his arm.

Severus muttered in disgust. "Rose, if you are going to punch people, your wrist should align with your forearm, lest you do more damage to yourself than your opponent. Proper alignment will also vastly increase the effectiveness of your strike."

"Oy!" Hugo cried, "Who's side are you on?"

He looked down his nose at them, "As generations of children at Hogwarts can attest, my own. I do not wish to have to reconstruct Rose's wrist simply because her brother is being obnoxious."

He took Rose's arm, aligned her wrist properly, then when a second arm was presented to him, repeated the instruction with Hugo.

Rose jabbed her newly aligned fist into the meat of her brother's arm and nodded with satisfaction at the deeper thwack it made. The glee on her face was positively feral.

She turned to Severus with calculating eyes. "What else can you teach us?"

SSSS

Hermione descended several minutes later.

"Severus, why are my children in the kitchen punching each other?"

Keeping his face blank, he shrugged his shoulders, and returned to his book.

With narrowed eyes that looked, at that moment, very much like Rose's, she muttered "Yeah, right." and left the room.

SSSS

Before beginning his work with Hugo's shields, he wanted Hermione's approval. If they were to get the job done before the children left for school later that week, they would need to devote some time to it each day. He did not want Hermione wondering why the two of them were sequestering themselves in the library so frequently.

"He requires training, that is all. He needs to block out distractions more efficiently. His focus problems...they can be overcome."

"And he asked you for help?"

"He described his issues to me, and I offered to assist him."

Hermione considered. There was something here, something he wasn't sharing with her. She could feel it. She considered prodding for more information, but then decided against it. She trusted Severus implicitly. If he felt he could help Hugo with his academic challenges, then she had no doubt that he could. As for his not telling her everything, if the two of them had taken each other into confidence, all the better.

Maybe it was a man-to-man thing. She knew Harry was doing his best with her children, but an uncle who lived on the other side of London was not the same as having a man right in the same house. She didn't expect her children to claim Severus as a father, but she wanted, very much, for them to love him. If they shared things with him that they didn't with her...well, it was a good sign, not a bad one.

"Well, if anyone can teach him mental discipline, it would be you. Have at it."

Snape turned to walk away, then whirled back. Not telling her...it did not feel right. Nor could he betray Hugo's confidence in such a delicate situation. He sighed. "It is...a bit more complicated than I have led you to believe."

She looked at him, smiled. "I thought it might be." She patted his hand reassuringly. "Keep his secrets, Severus. I trust you to do the right thing."

His eyes unreadable, he nodded and left the room.

The moment he was out of eyeshot, he leaned against the wall, and placed a hand to his suddenly aching chest. She'd known he was holding something back. And yet, she trusted him. She trusted him with her child.

That, more than anything that had come before, led him to believe that maybe, just maybe, this entire interlude was real.

Maybe she really did love him.

Maybe his heart really was safe.

SSSS

Later that evening, while the children were working on their winter-term homework, he and Hermione sat by the fire. She was reading Pride and Prejudice, a book-she informed him-that she read every new year. He looked at the cover, a rather romantic shot of a couple embracing. Hmmm...if she read it annually, he should probably read it at least once.

Meanwhile, he was reading one of her tomes on mystigenesis, a field that had apparently made great strides since he'd gone incommunicado.

They had been thus engaged for almost an hour when Rose stalked into the room. She proceeded to march up to him, dragging a large leather ottoman behind her, which she aligned two inches in front of Snape's knees. He looked to Hermione whose face moved quickly from startled to amused; whatever was transpiring, she knew exactly what was about to occur. Rose then hauled a wingback chair from the library, all the while muttering to herself about heavy objects and the idiocy of the restriction against underage magic.

Snape looked to Hermione once again for explanation, but she just smiled, said, "Good luck!" and removed herself to the other room.

Two minutes later, Rose descended the stairs carrying a flat wooden box. She ceremoniously set it down onto the ottoman. He could hear grumbles from within the box, so he was not totally surprised when she pulled out the chessboard, and began to set up her men.

She gave him a challenging look, to which he raised an eyebrow, and began to set up his own side. When both sides were prepared, she said:

"Don't give me quarter because I'm a kid, because I sure won't be giving you any."

He nodded. "I would never do you that dishonour."

They began.

SSSS

An hour and a half later, they completed their third game. She had taken the first using a risky, but, he conceded, brilliant manoeuvre. He took the second, barely, using a gambit he'd devised playing the old Greek. And the third had been a stalemate. Each contest had been fast, brutal, and hotly contested. And fun. It had been, he had to admit, completely and utterly fun.

He sat back on the sofa and looked at Rose. She shoved all the grumbling chess men back into their box, lovingly folded away the board, sat back in her chair, and looked back at him.

She spoke first. "That trick you used in the second game..."

"Yes."

"Nice."

"Thank you."

"It won't work again."

He smirked. "I'd be terribly disappointed if it did."

They sat a while longer. Just looking at each other.

"Same time tomorrow?" She asked, almost hopefully.

He let the smile that had been threatening for minutes sneak over his features, and was gratified when a similar one bloomed on her face.

"Indeed."

She picked up her chess box, and began to leave.

"Rose?"

"Yes."

"What house did you say you were in?"

It was her turn to smirk. "Didn't you hear? First Weasley in three generations to be sorted into Slytherin. I'm quite the scandal."

He waited until she was well clear of the room before laughing out loud.

End Chapter 27


	27. We Make Our Own Luck

Severus was standing in Hermione's bedroom, meticulously combing through his freshly washed hair. He'd never had so many snarls in all of his life. Ah, well, if that was the consequence of all their recumbent callisthenics it was a small price to pay.

They'd be taking the children to King's Cross in a moment, and though he was thrilled by the prospect of having Hermione all to himself for their last days in London, he was also curiously...saddened. He had never particularly cared for children, despite, or perhaps because of his decades as an educator. And yet, these two...well, it had been another unexpectedly enjoyable layer of chaos in his life to have them around.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the children in question walked into the bedroom, and stood behind him, waiting for his attention. He placed the comb on the dresser, performed a drying spell, and turned around to face them.

"Both of you at one time?" He said, his eyes narrowing. "How afraid should I be?"

Rose smirked. "Very. We think you should marry her."

Snape's body jerked a bit in surprise. "Do you?"

Hugo smiled. "We do. You are good for her; you make her happy."

"And she makes you happy," said Rose.

"...And we want you to stay." Finished Hugo.

Snape felt his heart contract at the beautiful innocence of the gesture. They weren't just asking him to marry their mother, he realized. They were asking him to marry them too. They wanted _him._

"We do." Said Hugo.

He gave Hugo a baleful stare. Hugo blushed and stammered. "Sorry. You leaked that one pretty loud..and I guess I took down my shields." Severus raised an eyebrow. "Okay. I peaked. Just a little. I just wanted to know if, like, you wanted us too."

He sighed. It was impossible to stay angry at this boy. "And, while you were traipsing around in my private emotions, what did you learn?"

He grinned. "You want us too. It weirds you out, but that's okay. You'll get used to it. Having a family is pretty cool."

Rose stepped forward. "Obviously, you don't have to do it now. But we would appreciate it if you would just...think about it. As a possible option, something worth considering."

He pondered. Realized that now that they'd put the idea in his head, he'd have no other choice but to think about it.

"It is certainly worth considering. I shall therefore consider it."

Hugo beamed. "That's all we can ask."

From downstairs, Hermione's voice rang through the house. "Car's here! If I don't see three bodies in this living room in two minutes, I'm going on a hexing rampage."

"Coming, Mum!" Shouted Hugo, and after shooting Severus a departing grin, ran downstairs.

He turned to Rose, who had not moved.

"You have something further to say?"

She handed him a scroll of parchment. "A few things, actually."

"And this is...?"

"A list of reasons why marrying us is in your best interests. Slytherin to Slytherin."

Absurdly touched, he glanced down at the beautiful, precise writing. There were twenty seven items on the list, all printed in emerald ink. He rolled the parchment, and vanished it for later study.

"I shall consider it very carefully," he said, and, on a whim, pressed a kiss to Rose's forehead.

Tears leapt to her eyes, startling them both.

"Stop it with the affectionate gestures." She said, angrily swatting at him. "I'm the tough one in this house; I have a reputation to uphold."

He grinned. "As do I. I will endeavour to control myself better in the future."

"See that you do."

Though usually performed wandless, he cast his glamours with his wand to distract her from her discomfort. "How do I look?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Repulsively average. And rather like a Hufflepuff. When you designed this glamour were you going for pleasant-looking?"

"I was going for not-Snape. Accomplished?"

"Ew. Yes. Accomplished."

"Now let us go before your mother begins casting hexes. Her jellylegs is monstrous."

Rose grinned, equanimity restored. "Don't I know it."

SSSS

They took the children to the train station in the late morning. Given the other people who would be on the platform, Severus chose to sit and wait for Hermione at a station cafe, rather than accompany her all the way to 9 3/4. He said his goodbyes to the children, and sat down to wait.

He could not have picked a better vantage point. Parading before him was a who's-who of people he'd taught, fought, abhorred, and sometimes cared for. There went the Potter brood, racing to catch up with Hermione. One of the Blaize boys, probably the elder, jogged by with a single willowy young woman in tow. An entire pack of Carmichaels. Six of them? He shuddered. If they were anything like their father there wouldn't be a decent potioneer in the bunch. Next to sweep by were Draco, Astoria, and their get, all looking stately as princes among paupers. He considered, vaguely, removing his glamour, and calling out, but decided that the sudden reappearance of their dead head-of-house might be...difficult for them. Perhaps a more private contact was in order. Or perhaps it was better for everyone if he just remained dead for the time being.

He sipped his cappuccino, enjoyed the show. There was a lull for a few minutes. And then the tide of parents began to flow back in the opposite direction. He was neither surprised, nor thrilled when Harry Potter approached his table, and sat down with his own coffee in hand.

"Hope you don't mind. Hermione said you'd be up here."

"I mind."

Harry looked at him, smirked, and shrugged a shoulder. "No you don't. I've seen when you really mind something, and this is not that. By the way, thank you for telling Hermione that we talked. It was getting hard for me to pretend that I didn't know."

Snape frowned in annoyance. "I did not tell her for your benefit. I simply do not wish to keep secrets from Granger."

Harry smiled. "Nonetheless."

"And where is she? Has the train not yet departed?"

"Oh it pulled away a few minutes ago. She and Ginny are probably just finishing up their traditional post-train-departure cry."

He stood up abruptly from the table, rattling his coffee cup. "Hermione is crying?"

Harry took a quick sip of his coffee in order to hide his smile. "MMmmm hhhh. It's hard to say goodbye. Chokes me up too. She and Ginny cry every time the train pulls away. But don't worry, it's no big deal."

Snape sent him a fulminating look, and charged off towards Platform 9 3/4.

Harry Potter, having seen everything he needed to see, sat back to enjoy his coffee. Snape was off-his-rocker in love with Hermione. Wasn't life a funny thing?

SSSS

Hermione had just walked through the barrier to the platform when Severus stepped up to her. His face was wrong of course, but those eyes were unmistakably his, and right now they were filled with concern.

"You have been crying" he said, half compassion, half accusation. "Your eyes are red."

"Yeah, I have...but it's okay, I do it every time. I'll be okay in a few minutes."

He bent his head and gently pressed his lips to the crown of her head, eyes closing at the now-familiar texture of her hair. "Nonetheless. If you are in pain, then I want to be with you." He tucked Hermione under his arm, opened his eyes and made eye contact with the fascinated redhead behind her. She needed no introduction.

"Mrs. Potter."

"Professor."

He looked at her red-rimmed eyes. "You have been crying also."

She laughed. "Every time. I just see the train pull away," her breath hitched, "And down come the tears." She gave him a watery smile. "Oh, well, it's a mother's prerogative."

He humphed. "Your husband is at the coffee shop. Now that I have departed, I am sure that he is in need of someone else to annoy."

Her red eyes sparked with amusement. "I'd better get up there then. It's good to have you back, Professor."

He nodded. "Good day Ginevra."

SSS

Crying always made her so hungry. When she mentioned this to Severus, he spoke a quiet word to the driver, who turned their car. She'd been ready to stop at a banger truck, but instead, the car took them to the restaurant at Royal Hospital Road.

"Royal Hospital? Really? You have to make reservations two months in advance."

Snape snorted. "We shall see about that."

SSSS

Afterwards, they walked hand in hand through the park.

"That was," she said, rubbing her distended stomach, "the single best meal of my life. The pork belly with choucroute was unbelievable."

Severus smiled. "Indeed. It was most satisfactory. Greek food is lovely, but this cuisine was...masterful."

"And the pairing...it was divine."

He nodded enjoying the feeling of her fingers entwined with his. "Indeed. Excellent sommelier; his knowledge was most refreshing."

"I've wanted to go there for ages, but since they got their third Michelin star it's been rather impossible to get a reservation."

"Really?" He asked, unconcerned, "As you can see, I had no problems."

She snorted. "Couldn't help noticing that the Maitre D looked a little confused when he seated us."

"Did he?" Intoned Severus. "Too much wine, undoubtedly."

"Undoubtedly...And the fact that Chef Ramsey also decided to pop out, after your trip to the loo which was very near the kitchen door..."

"Yes?"

"...and somehow he happened to stop at our table...I suppose that was just good luck too?"

"Granger, you have chosen to ally yourself with me. Make no mistake about it, while I have reformed, I am still a Slytherin, and will behave accordingly. And, as I told you before," he said, pulling her in for a kiss, "We make our own luck."

SSSSSS

They lay side by side, in the afterglow of a good meal and the afternoon's lovemaking. Though his body was utterly sated, Snape's mind was still buzzing with the morning's conversation. He rolled on to his side to look at her.

"The children think we should get married."

Hermione, who had just lifted her glass from the bedstead, choked on her water. "Do they? Wow. They told you this?"

"In no uncertain terms. You raised no shrinking violets. "

Hermione snorted. "Noticed that, did you? How did you react?"

"I was...taken aback. It wasn't a concept I had considered before." He sat up, ran a hand through his hair. "Hermione. In my service to the Dark Lord, I did things, terrible things, at first willingly, but then with increasing reluctance. It...changed me. Then Lily died. And any heart that still remained within me shattered. Any dreams I might have harboured of one day having love...simply ceased to exist. I did not think I was...capable of that feeling any longer." He looked down at the mark on his forearm. "Perhaps I needed to believe that I wasn't capable in order to do what needed to be done."

She stroked his back. "That makes sense. I'm sure there were many parts of yourself that you had to shut off."

"But make no mistake. It was no sacrifice; I shut them off with no regret. I wanted the numbness. I wanted to cut off the parts of me that were vulnerable. I wanted to make sure that I never felt that pain again."

"And now?"

"And now I find that I was lying to myself, that my heart is indeed...capable of...great emotion. But I have not considered what the consequences of such a thing might be. Marriage...it is a foreign concept to me."

"Severus. I'm thrilled that the children want you to be part of our family, but don't let their fantasies rush you. Your heart is still finding its way. You take your time. I am very happy with our relationship just the way it is."

"And if I can never give you more?" He asked, his face haunted.

Hermione took his hands into hers. "I'll still be the luckiest woman alive."

End Chapter 28


	28. Storm

He thought about it in that slow, thorough way of his, all the while stroking a lazy hand across the bare skin of her flank. He smirked when he answered.

"Your hair."

"My hair? Why for godssakes? It's awful."

He snorted. "Not to me. Consider it a...fetish. But I always liked the look of it, even when you were an annoying know-it-all, waiving your hand around and disrupting my classes."

"I wasn't that bad!"

He raised a single eyebrow.

"Okay, alright. I was that bad. But my hair? Seriously?"

"Yes."

She digested this, a half smile on her face. She'd hated that hair her entire life, and it was Severus' favourite of her features. She resolved to hate it less in the future.

"And you?" He asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice.

Hermione hummed. "I don't know, there's so much to choose from. This right here, this muscle that connects from your groin to your abs. That's a marvel. Makes me want to chew it. Really, your stomach in general is a work of art. I mean, look at it! And your neck..."

"Granger, this is not a laundry list."

"Spoilsport." She grinned, leaning forward to nibble on his lower lip. "If I could only pick one, it would be this mouth of yours. How it can go from cruel to sensual in one turn of your mood. How it flushes when we've been kissing. And how it tastes. That's the kicker. I love the taste of your mouth. It's like food. I could live on it."

It was his turn to wear a small smile. "And what do I taste like?"

She answered without hesitation. "Earthy. Like your magic. Maybe mixed with red wine. Actually, your whole body tastes like your magic. It's on your skin, in your hair." She ran the flat of her tongue along the column of his neck. "It's in your sweat after you run. It's outrageously sexy. But it's in your mouth most of all."

"So what you really like" he smirked, "is my magic."

She smiled. "Maybe that is it; I've never met anyone with such a strong magical signature. It shocked me when you said no one else had mentioned it. I'm not sure how anyone could miss that...potency."

"Perhaps it is not potent to others. Perhaps you are simply...cued to the right frequency."

She grinned. "Maybe I am." Hermione froze. Her eyes grew round and dilated. "Oh, gods, that's it."

She leapt from the bed and began throwing on her discarded clothes, "That's it, that's it, that's it!"

Amused by her urgency, he stood and wanded himself dressed. "More words, Granger. What is 'it'?"

She turned to him with intense, glowing eyes. "I know what we were missing. In our work. Why the spell isn't working. It's magical signatures."

Severus' eyes sharpened and his lips twitched. He instantly understood the leap Hermione had made. A sly smile spread across his face.

"Indeed. That may be 'it.""

Hermione's grin was a copy of his. "May be?" She laughed. "That's it and you know it. Come on."

The smile got wider. "Very well."

"Damned right." She held out a hand to him, a fierce light in her eyes. "Severus, my love, I believe that today is the day that you and I are going to beat Wizards Cancer."

SSSS

Hours later, the two of them sat at the dinner table in stunned silence, the Grimoire closed between them. They'd done it. Linking in the patient's individual magical signature had been the final step, the missing element to the complex web of potions and spells they had been working on for months. It prevented the magic from overriding the treatment, enabled it to distinguish between a healthy cell and one that had been corrupted. It sequestered and protected the former while the latter was ruthlessly removed from the body.

The cocktail of treatments they'd woven together to accomplish the removal was cumbersome still; it would require refinement, months of study and adjustment. But, they both knew, the hurdle had been surpassed. It would work.

She looked at him with dancing eyes. "We did it. I thought we would, but I didn't really believe...Sod it all, we cured Wizard's Cancer." She laughed out loud, stood from her table and began to dance around. "We cured Wizard's Cancer!"

Because he was looking for it, he caught the moment when her face changed. "We cured Wizard's Cancer. Oh, gods." she said, almost moaning as her head dropping into her hands. "We cured Wizard's Cancer."

With that, like she'd been punched in the stomach, she crumpled to the floor, body shaking with sobs. "Ronald." She said, over and over.

Severus, his face grim, moved purposefully towards her, picked up her wailing body. He'd been waiting for the realization to hit her. Had suspected that behind this pinnacle of accomplishment would be a deep pain she would need to endure.

How he hated being right all the time.

Carrying her quaking body in his arms, he walked them both over to the sofa, sat down with her on top of him. Held on to her.

There is a sound to grief that is unmistakable. A sound the body makes only when the person one loves is extinguished forever. It is a cry like no other.

He had heard that sound enough during the Dark Lord's reign to recognize it. He had caused that cry in others. Had walked by as if it held no meaning for him.

But it did hold meaning for him. He had cried this way too. Sobbed as if anguish was the only song his body could sing. Cried in utter desolation, not just at the moment of death, but years later, when some smell or sound reminded him, so that he remembered, truly remembered the moment his heart was ripped from him.

Oh, yes. He knew that sound. He knew what it was to hear it pour out of his own throat. Just as he knew what it was to torture one's self with the myriad things one could have done differently.

And so, though there had been little forewarning, it was no mystery to him why the woman he loved was now wailing in his arms. She had cured Wizard's Cancer...but it had not been in time to save the man she had loved.

That she loved him too would not change the depth of her heartache. Ronald had been hers for almost three decades, and he for barely more than three weeks. There was no comparison. He could only hope that his love would be a line she could use to pull herself from the abyss once the storm passed.

His heart contracting in sympathy, he held on tightly to Hermione's quaking body, and whispered softly into her hair: "Go ahead and cry, my beloved. Go ahead and cry."

SSSS

Many hours later, when the sobbing had ceased, and he had succeeded, somehow, in getting good food and sufficient re-hydration into her belly, he asked her.

"Hermione. My love. Is there anything I can do for you.?"

And she had answered, lifting tired eyes to his. "Take me home, Severus. Take us both home."

And so he did.

SSSS

AN: Hermione has just experienced what the grief counselling community refers to as a STUG: A Sudden Temporary Upwelling of Grief. These events occur for up to decades after a significant loss, and are a normal, albeit outrageously painful, part of a healthy grief process.

By being there for Hermione, without judgement, Snape has proven that he is the man for her, able to be her partner, despite, or perhaps because of the depths of her prior experiences. It is, I know from experience, the most sacred bond.

All hail Mr. Theolyn, for being man enough to hold me, even as I grieved for someone else.

Love to you all,

Theolyn.


	29. No Future without the Past Part 1

Hermione leaned over the railing of the Ferry, and watched another island slide by. Severus was behind her, as he'd been all day, one arm braced on either side, a protective wall between her and anything that might want to hurt her. Out here in the sunshine, with the clean, salty air in her lungs and Severus's strong wiry arms around her, she could feel the frayed edges of her heart knitting back together, much as it had on her first trip to these islands.

She hadn't saved Ron. But somewhere out there were families that she would save. Families that would not be ripped asunder. Their work meant that somewhere out there were wives who wouldn't have to mourn as she had, children who would not grieve the way hers had, mothers who wouldn't have to writhe in agony seeing their children suffer. Families would remain whole. It wouldn't help her family. It wouldn't save Ron. And that wasn't fair.

But even as she grieved yesterday, wishing intensely that things could have been different, she could not help but be aware of what she had. Her children had survived the experience, internalized it, grown from it, and were now thriving. Her heart had proven resilient enough to love again. And she had this beautiful, complex man behind her, her partner, her lover, her friend, who was even now willing her better with every fibre of his being. She simultaneously mourned what had been, while being intensely grateful for what was, and saw no problem with that simultaneity. But the closer she got to their island home, the more the present seemed to outweigh the past.

Interesting, that word. Home. The location where one's heart lived. The house in London had been home for her for so many years. She had planned to live there for the rest of her life. But as she well knew, sometimes life had other plans. And so, somehow, in just the few short months she and Severus had been together, the location of home had shifted. Home had become the open vistas and the rugged cliffs of the island where they fell in love. She'd loved going back to the London house, but it had felt like a vacation, not a homecoming. When her heart had been hurting, what she craved was this scrubby little patch of land in the middle of the Aegean. Home was the thrum of ancient magic under the soles of her feet, and vibrant blue of uninterrupted sky. Home was where Severus could walk with his own face, and know that he was welcomed and wanted. Home was where her past was quiet, and her present and future met, and became one.

SSSS

They returned to Arki in the late afternoon. The Taverna was already open for the evening, with Tedo stationed at his customary table. When the two of them disembarked, hands clasped, he let out deafening whistle to call them over.

Severus scowled, but did not drop her hand. "Tedo." He said, in fluent Greek. "You excessive prick."

"Severoos, you dirty letcher." He gestured to their joined hands. "Looks like you have finally taken your head out of your ass." The two men embraced, and pounded the other's back.

Severus smiled. "I missed your ugly face."

Tedo smiled. "Ever jealous, eh, friend?" Grabbing Severus by the shoulders, he placed the customary kiss on each of Severus' cheeks. "It's good that you're back. That crazy old woman of yours has been driving me to distraction. Borrowed my telescope and has been using it to watch every ferry that has come this week. She worried you'd decide to stay in England. Better go there first; she'll skin your shrivelled balls if you don't."

Severus nodded. "I'd rather avoid that."

Hermione, whose Greek was improving rapidly, had caught approximately every third word. However, she noted with interest that many of the words she did catch referenced to male anatomy. Male bonding, she decided; incomprehensible in any language.

After the the two men finished chatting, she embraced Tedo herself.

"Teodoro. It is so good to see you."

The old man smiled. "When you get tired of this one, you come to Tedo for a real man. Yes?"

She noted with amusement that Severus promptly came back and claimed her hand again. Hermione smiled. "I'm sorry Teodoro. I'm sure you are very skilled, but I prefer my men with more substantial...noses."

Tedo paused, looked at a mildly bemused Severus, then tipped his head back and laughed.

"Ah, Sevroos, you are a lucky lucky man."

SSSS

They were here at last. Ever since she'd asked it of him, the need to get Hermione back here had been driving. Without worrying overly about protecting his assumed identity, the portkeys had been easy to arrange. The ferry had been time consuming, but, he felt, therapeutic. The trek through the village with so many coming to greet them had been...taxing. But where he had affection he had patience. And so, their duty to those who greeted them had been done. And Mama, despite the fact that her dear aged eyes had momentarily teared to see him, had seemed to sense his need to complete the journey. After extracting the promise of breakfast in the morning, she generously sent them on to complete the trek up the hill.

Together, they breathed a sigh of relief when they finally crossed the threshold of the cottage. At last, they were home. They embraced there, door open, afternoon sunlight streaming in after them, and felt the tension fall away like ice calving from a glacier.

Severus walked to the bedroom to cast an extension charm on it, expanding it so that it would accommodate the needs of two people rather than one. A bigger bed had been his next priority, while Hermione focused upon expanding his closet, and accommodating the extensive wardrobe she had tucked into her beaded purse. But once their tasks were accomplished, it was Hermione who insisted that they christen immediately by making love on its ample surface. Severus did not disagree.

It never ceased to amaze him just how different it was to mate with a woman who loved him. The physical pleasure was almost secondary to the emotional satisfaction of bringing her to stunned completion over and over again. And now, while she was so vulnerable, making love to her was a transcendent experience, an opportunity to replace pain with pleasure. He felt...honoured to hold that fragile creature in his hands, and stroke her back to radiance.

Afterwards, with afternoon fallen into night, they stood at the railing of the terrace as they'd stood on the boat before. Though he knew them to be safe within his powerful wards, he still stood behind her, arms on either side. The need to protect this woman was fierce within him. It did not matter if the enemy was external, or a pain within. He would do anything that needed to be done to keep her well.

Thankfully her grief was subsiding. Their lovemaking seemed to have washed the last of it away. He could see the change in her posture, the subtle hunch that had lifted from her shoulders, the line that had eased between her eyebrows, the calm that had returned to her mouth.

"You are better now."

She nodded, leaned back so that her body was in contact with his. His arms released the railing, wrapped around her of their own accord. His ears caught her sigh as she turned more of her weight over to him. She took comfort from him. He knew it, and felt gratified.

"I am glad."

"It doesn't bother you at all, does it?" She asked.

"What?"

"This. That I still grieve for him."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It bothers me that you have pain. But the fact that you grieve for him does not bother me. Does how you felt for him somehow change how you feel for me?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not at all."

"Then I have no basis for complaint."

She laughed. "You know, Severus, sometimes emotions aren't that rational. Remember the Wizard's Cancer support group that I told you about? There were women there who had remarried, and even years later, complained that their new spouses were still jealous of the old ones."

Severus snorted. "Then their husbands are insecure idiots. Ronald and I are not in competition. Those who leave us behind have their own concerns once they cross the veil. They are not upset by what we have here. Why should I be? He is not here to hold you. I am. His time has passed. Mine is just beginning. I assure you, if it bothered me, I would tell you. It does not."

"Good. I have a feeling that a jealous Severus, might be...difficult."

He snorted. "I assure you, he is. May you never have reason to meet him. But also, you must recall that I grieved for a woman who did not love me for two decades of my life. I understand constancy. I know now that much of that extended time was fuelled by guilt and remorse, but nonetheless, I understand that the heart does not stop loving just because the object of affection has ceased to exist.

"And you? Having heard everything I've told you, does the fact that I loved Lily, and failed her, bother you?"

Hermione's face hardened. "I'm not jealous of what you felt for her. I'm bloody pissed at her. She was an idiot for not choosing you. And even if she didn't love you, I cannot imagine what would make her leave a friend like she left you. You needed her. She's supposed to be a Gryffindor. She should have bloody well tried harder. I would have. And as for you failing her...she didn't choose you, Severus. If she had, if she had even still claimed your friendship, you would have been there. You would have used your own body as a shield if need be. You would have carried her and her child, and the man that you hated to safety."

He stared at her, eyes unfathomable, then pulled her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers.

SSSS

AN: I apologize for the slowdown in posting. We are drawing near the end of the story now, and that has necessitated making some tough editing choices, which has, in turn slowed things down.

This chapter is the first part of a larger chapter, and it's a doozy. Severus feels that he can't make a life with Hermione without letting her know what he did in his years of dual servitude.

I really want to get this right, so it's going to take some time. I posted this first part so that you'd know that I hadn't abandoned you all. Meanwhile, I'm back at work on the hardest conversation I've ever written.

More soon.


	30. No Future without the Past Part 2

Author's Note:

Warning: the following chapter contains details about Severus' life as a deatheater. Topics discussed include torture, rape, and murder. If you wish to skip this chapter, the summary is: Snape confesses all. Hermione accepts all. There. You are caught up and may skip on to Chapter 32.

For the rest of you, you may now read on.

SSSSSS

He awoke from a vicious nightmare. Though he did not remember the specifics, he recognized the feeling. That feeling came from the time in his life when he had a been a willing participant in Tom Riddle's games. In those dreams, he was simultaneously assaulted by the bitter pleasure he had felt in those early days, the pride at being accepted, and the nauseous revulsion with which he currently viewed those actions. It was a particularly acute combination of feelings, one that had for years made his body wretch upon waking.

The sensation was no longer as intense as it had been, but it was still...challenging. He used his breath to calm himself, hold his gorge down, reduce the thundering of his heart. At length, the nausea passed. As he relaxed, he could once again hear the gentle sigh of Hermione's sleeping breath over the tumultuous sounds of his own body. At least he had not disturbed her. But there would be no more sleep for him tonight. He slipped silently from his bed.

He went to the terrace to look out at the endless night sea. How many nights had he stood here, staring at the water while wrestling one inner demon or another? More than most, he supposed...but less than he deserved in all probability. Still, he was at peace with his life. The choices he had made...though he no longer agreed with them, he could not regret them, for they had brought him to this place, this time, this woman.

But that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? The reason the old dreams had come back to remind him. This woman. This woman who had revealed that she thought that he, the callow youth, would have behaved in the way that he, the man, would now choose.

It was tempting, so tempting, to let her assumptions stand. To let her think that who he had become was who he had always been. But doing so would be a lie. And he was determined that there would be truth between them whenever possible.

The snake within him hissed. _Why not let it lie?_

He shook his head to clear it. For years he had made do with relationships that were hobbled by his hidden past. The people of Arki could not know his magic, and could certainly never be told the kind of life he had once led. He'd accepted that lack of intimacy with them. With Hermione he had the chance for something different. Something better. Something whole.

The idea of marrying her, of spending the rest of his life with her, had begun to permeate many of his waking moments. It was a shocking thing to admit, but he had a picture of a life spent with her and her children in his head, and he _wanted_ it. But he wanted her to know all of him. He wanted to confess everything, lay it all at her feet and stand utterly naked in front of her judgment. It would not be easy for her, he knew. But he believed she was strong enough to find some kind of peace with his past.

Of course, she might turn away from him, as Lily had done. But he did not think she would. He believed in her fortitude. Lily had been a young, naive woman who had never faced true difficulty in life. Hermione was a woman grown, a woman who had been tested, who had herself fought in a war, bent and even broken the rules of civilized behaviour for the benefit of the common good. She would not be so easily scared away. He believed this to be true. But he might be wrong.

His heart contracted in agony at the thought.

He clamped down upon the reaction sternly, and without sympathy. This love would be real. It would be complete, or it would not be; simple as that. He had not waited this long for love only to settle for something less.

He returned to his bed, determined to have a few last hours near her...just in case he was wrong.

SSSS

They woke before dawn, as was their habit. Only this time, instead of rising immediately for their run, they turned to each other, loved each other in the quiet darkness. And just at the exquisite moment when he surrendered himself, at the very moment when he poured himself into her, he wondered achingly if it would it be for the last time.

SSSS

Something was wrong with Severus. They ran. Showered. Had breakfast with Mama. He was pleasant and attentive to her. But through it all, he was somehow distant, as if his heart had left his body.

He was also distracted, which was a first in all the years she'd known him. The man had focus like no other. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought he was worried. She rejected the thought. Severus Snape did not worry. He planned. He acted. But he did not worry.

So she worried instead.

When they sat down to begin the paper that would announce their discovery of a cure to the world, and she found that his focus was still elsewhere, she decided it was time to intervene.

"Okay. That's enough of that."

He turned to her with a surprised look on his face.

"You're brooding Severus. You haven't brooded in weeks. Something has gotten under your skin. Spill."

He closed his eyes. Breathed deeply. Nodded. "You are right. I am indeed...brooding as you so poetically put it. I wish to revisit yesterday's conversation. I believe that you are...mistaken about several things. Let us sit down. This conversation...may be a long one.

"Last night, you mentioned your anger at Lilly for abandoning me. But conscience dictates that I tell you: Lily was not so callous, nor I so heroic as you have painted us.

"She tried, many times, to dissuade me from the path I chose. She saw my trajectory. She saw, rightly as it turned out, that nothing good could come of the associations I selected. I did not listen to her. I turned from her long before she turned from me.

"As for what I might have done to protect her family had she let me...I sincerely doubt it would have been as noble as you have imagined. Protect her at the cost of my life? Yes, without a doubt. But her husband and her child? I think not."

He looked at her, attempted to judge her reaction, and found her face frustratingly placid. He was tempted to look inside, but he knew she would consider entering her mind without invitation a violation. He refused to treat her with so little respect. And so, though it pained him, he carried on.

"You must realize that at that point in my life, I was completely and totally focused upon my own needs and wants. The lives, the pain of others...had no meaning to me. I was empty and hungry, and I was willing to consume anything that would fill me. The Dark Lord called and I went to him willingly. I wanted power. I wanted acceptance. And yes, I wanted Lily." He looked at her intently. "I would have greeted Potter's death as the removal of an impediment to having her. I would have rejoiced. I am not that man now. But I very much was then."

Hermione blew out a loud breath, nodded. "Okay. I guess I knew all that on some level. But I forget it because that is not who you are now."

"I do not wish you to forget, Hermione. If you are to truly love me, you must know who I was."

She nodded again. "Okay."

His face was sombre. "You need to know all of it. So that I have nothing hidden from you. So that you have no questions, so that you can make your choice freely. It may not be...easy for you."

Hermione took another deep breath. "Severus, I have already made my choice. Harry and Ron and I attended the death eater trials. I know some things about that...life. Whatever you did, I may never understand it, but it's not going to change how I feel about you."

He sighed. "I very much hope that you are right."

Hermione, her face grim, nodded for him to continue. "Better get it over with if you're worried."

He rose from the sofa, and began to pace the terrace. "When I first joined the death eaters, I was lauded for my brewing. But the Dark Lord quickly became fond of my crucio. It seems that my version of the curse was particularly...effective. It was wonderful to finally be appreciated for my skills. The Dark Lord was an expert at flattery, and he used it to bind us even closer to him. "

He stood, turned away from her. "I became his favourite torturer. It thrilled me to be so honoured. Sometimes the victims were other death eaters; enduring regular torture was one of the little downsides of being among the Dark Lord's most trusted. But other times, the people upon whom I loosed my skill were innocent. Muggles, or witches or wizards who stood against him, or simply had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Even then I performed my task with pleasure. I convinced myself they deserved such treatment. I cast each one in the role of someone who had hurt me, and I drew pleasure from inflicting humiliation and pain upon them." Looking over his shoulder, he could see the question in her eyes. He did not need legilimancy to read it. "I did not perform the crucio that took the Longbottoms' sanity from them. But there were others who shared that fate from my hand."

Though she made no sound, when he turned, her hand was clamped across her mouth. Her amber eyes were round and wet. He turned away from her again, looked out upon the ocean.

"In the early years, sex was also a large part of the allure. As you might guess, I had not been greeted with open arms by the teenage witch population at Hogwarts. But in the Dark Lord's court there were always women around, older women who were happy to shag anyone who was perceived as being within the inner circle. The more access I gained to the Dark Lord, the more...popular I became.

"There were others, of course... people who were not so... willing. I was squeamish about this, and the majority of the time the Dark Lord accepted my preference for willing partners as a charming eccentricity.

"Nonetheless, from time to time I was called upon by the Dark Lord to..._perform_ with those who had no choice in the matter." He shuddered. "The first time, I was unable to do so, and the Dark Lord himself showed me the joy of a fine crucio. I was unable to leave the shelter of my bed for a week. After that, I kept a potion on hand to overcome my physical reluctance, should such a thing be again required of me. And of course, it was.

"I do not believe my lack of enthusiasm made any difference to the women, and occasional men I was called upon to violate. The effects for them were just the same. If anything, whenever pity moved me, I became angrier, more brutal than I might have been otherwise.

"Thankfully, in his new body, the Dark Lord was no longer capable of such things, and thus, they were required of us less frequently. But he did still enjoy a show, and so participation was still 'encouraged' from time to time.

"Eventually, I learned that a subtle cunfundus allowed the victim to escape in their own mind to whomever they would best accept in their body. That made it...easier. Somewhat. I also learned the exact maximum pressure I could apply when scrubbing my skin clean afterwards that would not make my flesh bleed."

Hermione's second hand had joined the first clamped over her mouth. Her eyes were now streaming, her shoulders betraying the fact that she was quietly crying. He could see her knuckles whiten with the effort of containing herself. He wanted, very much, to console her. But, fearing his touch would not be welcome, he soldiered on.

"Due to my services with the crucio, I was not, at first, called upon to kill in cold blood...The Dark Lord was quite good at sensing where his minions would revolt, and not pushing them past that point. That limit held for the first few years... until after Lily died and the Dark Lord disappeared. When he returned, he must have sensed a new resolve in me...although it was of course misinterpreted. And thus, he required that task of me too.

"By then I had had years to consider the weight of my previous actions upon my soul. I did not want to take part in anything that we did. And taking human life...it was particularly... difficult for me. Every person I killed became Lily in my mind. Every single time I raised an Avada Kedavra, I became her murderer. Each time I ended someone, I ended her. It agonized me to feel redemption move further and further from my grasp.

"I cannot tell you how many times that I sat in Albus' office after a killing and wept and railed, and begged him to release me from further service. But ultimately, we both knew that I must take up my wand and return again, for the greater good. And return I did.

"There are other specifics of course that I could give you. But I believe these cover the worst offences. I have tortured. I have raped. And I have murdered. All of these I did multiple times. Know that I would surrender my precious life now before committing such an act again, but the facts remain. Who I am now is not who I was."

He sighed, continued to watch the water. Behind him, Hermione gave up her quest to remain silent. He steeled himself not to respond to the choking sobs that he heard behind him.

So focused was he upon resisting the need to go to her, that he was utterly and completely unprepared for the sound of the sobbing to draw nearer, and her arms to wrap around him in absolution.

Severus Snape leaned into her beloved arms, and let himself cry.

SSSS

When they had, each of them, finished crying, they found themselves still entwined, and sitting on the tiled floor of the terrace.

Hermione, who still had her arms wrapped around his waist and her face pressed to his back, scooted sideways to that she could stroke the hair on his bent head. He shuddered at the touch, then closed his eyes in acceptance.

She rose to her knees to bring herself closer to his seated height. Starting upon the crown of his head, she began to methodically lay slow, meaningful kisses over his head and his face.

His body quivered at the simple pleasure of those light touches.

To be loved.

After all this.

Later, he was sure, he would feel full. But at this moment, in the wake of catharsis he only felt numb.

Once his face had been marked with dozens of presses from her lips, she took his left forearm in her hands. With the same deliberate care, she dropped her lips, and began to press her mouth to the dark mark, quietly, thoroughly.

When that was done, she put a hand to the surface of his neck, went unerringly to the raised surface of his scars. "Would you remove the glamour on your neck for me? I would like to see them."

Still too shaken to speak, he raised two fingers to his neck, touched the surface of the scars.

Once they were revealed to her, she pressed her lips to every lurid scar. Then she pulled back, waited for him to open his eyes.

When those dark, endless eyes fluttered open, her amber eyes met his, held them.

"Severus Tobias Snape, when I said I loved you, I meant it. Every bit of you." She rubbed her fingers over his forearm. "Even the parts that are not pretty."

Then, ritual complete, she pulled his weary head to her breast, and held him there for a long time.

SSSS

AN: Thank you for reading through this. I know several of you felt that Hermione didn't need to know this stuff, that she and Severus should just start from where they were and move forward. But I felt strongly that our Severus needed to know that the woman who chose him had no reservations about his past.

I want to thank all of you for your patience in the delay in posting. The good news is, I have two more chapters basically completed. So it will be one-a-day for the next few.

The bad news is, I leave town again on Thursday and will un-postable for another week.

Do not lose hope; we are nearing the end. My firm goal is to finish this story in October so I can be ready for Nanowrimo. Fingers crossed!


	31. When the Earth Moves

He woke her in the middle of the night, pressing his lips down the column of her throat. They'd fallen into bed several hours ago, too tired to make love. But now he was pressing gentle kisses over the surface of her skin just as she had to his skin on the terrace. It was, she knew, a reaffirmation of their bond to make love together in the night. He needed to know, deep in his bones, that she still wanted him in her life and in her body. And so, she surrendered herself to his skilled lips, and greeted the ecstasy he gave her with even greater joy.

This man. This wonderful, complex, resilient man, was hers.

SSSS

The next morning, for only the second time on the island, the two of them skipped their morning run in favour of more delicate exercise. When it was over, they rested on the expanded surface of his bed, he on his back, and she on her stomach. With one hand, she explored the contours of his newly-revealed scars.

"Sweet Merlin." She said, tracing the slash across his jugular. "How on earth did you ever survive this?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "The Dark Lord was distracted. And he counted on Nagini to finish the job. The scars are worse than they should be. I was at the very last of my reserves at the time. I did not have the fine motor control to mend them neatly. But as long as they do not bother you, they are of no consequence."

"The way they look doesn't bother me. What bothers me is knowing that I could have helped and didn't. Knowing that you were in such agony all alone." She worried her lip with her teeth. "If I had stayed..."

His face grew stern. "I thought you understood. If you had stayed, we might not be here today. "

"You don't know that."

"Even the possibility that the present might have changed is insupportable. A different past, and I might never have come here. I might never have known what it felt like to be at peace with myself. To live in beauty rather than in darkness." He turned on to his side so that he could make eye contact. "I might never have had the chance to see love in a woman's eyes, or to be touched by hands that sought more than shallow pleasure from my body. Hermione, I need you to understand that scars are a paltry price to pay for such wealth."

"I know, but..."

"There are no buts, Hermione." His face was exasperated, but his voice was gentle. "Have you even checked in on the debt bond lately?"

Hermione looked surprised, then blushed. "No, I haven't. I guess I don't think of you that way anymore, like there's a debt between us. I've just been a little caught up with falling in love with you. But don't worry, I'll figure it out eventually."

"Check the bond, Hermione." When she didn't respond immediately, he rolled his eyes at her. "Do so now."

She stared into the distance. After a few moments, she furrowed her eyebrows. "It's gone!"

He nodded. "Most observant of you. It dissolved weeks ago. One might think that the bond found your love for me adequate recompense for the injustices for which you have claimed responsibility.

"Personally, I find it interesting that it dissolved not when you told me you loved me, but rather the moment that I said the words to you. It seems the bond felt that loving was a greater gift than being loved." He let his words hang in the air between them. "The dissolution was rather...spectacular. You did not feel it?"

"When you told me that you were in love with me?" She shook her head. "My heart was too busy exploding in my chest. You could have rolled over me with a truck and I wouldn't have noticed. It really dissolved?"

He smiled, nodded his head, ran a hand over the surface of her volcanic hair. "As I shared with you yesterday, I spent many years with hate as the brightest emotion in my life. For the last two decades I have attempted to navigate the world in a better way. I have learned to be a friend. I have learned to be a son. I have learned to belong to my community. But I did not think that I would ever, could ever, love a woman. I always assumed that that part of me was the one irretrievably broken part of my soul. I assumed that it was the one thing that would never be healed. And I thought that I was at peace with that fact.

"And then you come, with your ridiculous debt bond, and your emotions as plain as the nose on my face, and you hand me your huge quivering heart like it is a common gift. And I am terrified that I do not deserve it, and yet I want to hold on to it tighter than anything else I have ever held.

"And though I was tempted, I did not hand your heart back to you. Despite my terror, I kept it. I let myself love you. It was if I finally washed the dark lord entirely from my soul.

"I believe that by loving you, the last broken part within me slid back into place. Thus, the debt was satisfied.

"And so I reiterate. I would not change one single thing of what has come before."

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, leaned her head next to his.

"Then neither would I."

SSSS

The next several weeks were spent creating, revising, and finalizing the paper that would bring their joint discoveries to the attention of the wizarding world. Both of them felt great urgency to complete the work so that it could reach those in need as soon as possible.

The private company that had funded Hermione's research would understandably reap the majority of the financial benefits of their accomplishment, but there would be residuals, and Hermione insisted that he be listed as co-author so that those monies would be shared in perpetuity.

At first, he'd attempted to decline. Though his contributions had formed much of the structure around the treatment, the two big intuitive leaps had both been Hermione's. The accomplishment was largely hers. But she'd insisted, and he simply had not cared enough to make an issue of it.

Though he now suspected that eventually he would rejoin the wizarding world, he certainly was not ready to do so at this moment. And thus he could not use the name Severus Snape on the paper. He'd used Tobias Smith for years when dealing with his system of intermediaries between the muggle and wizarding worlds. But to use that name for this purpose might create a trail that might uncover his identity before he was ready. Instead, and after much deliberation, he decided to publish under the name of Sevroos Alevizos. Though Mama could never know it, it pleased Severus to claim the name of the woman who had been far more mother to him than his own.

And so, signed and completed, the sheaf of papers that comprised five months of concerted effort was carefully sealed, stamped and deposited into the muggle post for relay to the magical world.

SSSS

The next afternoon, Hermione stood beside the cottage, surveying the living room wall. "Here?"

Severus nodded. "It is far enough away for our privacy, but not so far that they can escape our monitoring."

Hermione smiled. "They'll have a view of the ocean. I do think two rooms, even if they are small, would be best."

Severus nodded. "Without a doubt."

Hermione rubbed a hand across her dubious forehead. "You know, if we go through with this, Vittorio and his crew are going to be in and out of the house for months."

Severus shuddered. "Do not remind me. Would that we could simply enlarge our dwelling magically and be done, but since we cannot, I see no alternative solution save sacrificing the reading room."

It was Hermione's turn to shudder.

"Exactly my thoughts." Severus said with an amused grin. "And so, we must temporarily sacrifice our privacy in order to create sufficient space for the children." He scowled. "I take some comfort in the fact that we will provide employment for several families in our local economy."

Hermione was just about to comment when she became aware of a vague sense of disorientation, followed by a distant rumbling sound. Then the ground began to move. Earthquake. It intensified even as her brain identified the phenomenon. She noted with some chagrin that she was only just reaching for her wand when Severus' protego snapped shut over both of them, protecting them from any debris that the movement might cause.

Though they were effectively protected, the movement of earth was a new experience, and unsettling to her. As if sensing this, he reached for her hand, made eye contact, and grinned, which settled her nerves more completely than even a cessation of the earth's movement might have. Though the quake lasted less than a minute, they seemed to crouch there, hands held, eyes locked for a much longer span of time before the earth settled back to its previous quiescence.

In the end, the protego proved unnecessary. The cottage beside them, bolstered as it was by Severus' protective wards, lost nary a chip of plaster, despite the fact that the quake had been a significant one.

Hermione had just bent over to dust off the seat of his pants when she stood upright and urgently gripped his arm.

"Mama?"

He smiled. "We will verify, of course. But her house is fully warded, and those wards are set to alert me any time she not well." His smile faded as he looked over the harbour. He noted a large plume of dust by the edge of the village with concern. A shrill ringing began inside the cottage.

Hermione's mobile. She accio'd it. Looked at the number. "Severus, it's Mama." She held it up to her ear. "Mama? Yes, we're fine. What's wrong?" She paused. Her face grew sombre. "I understand. Of course we will come." She reached for Severus' hand, looked at him with the fire of battle in her eyes. "Severus, the library has collapsed. There are people inside."

"Tedo?"

Hermione nodded grimly.

He withdrew his wand from his sleeve, nodded to see that hers was already clutched in her hand. Without a second thought, they apparated away.

End, Chapter 32


	32. Discovered in the Rubble

They both appeared in front of the pile of rubble that had been Arki's beautiful, decrepit library. In the three minutes since the earth had stopped shaking, the entire village had already assembled, and mobilized to shift materials out of the way to reach those trapped inside.

Had they apparated elsewhere, they might have used their magic to help subtly, making the stones lighter and easier to shift, and providing life support to those trapped within. But neither of them gave a fig for subtlety in that moment, and the crack of their apparition ended any possibility of pretending otherwise. So they waded in with wands raised, parting the sea of stunned villagers with little effort. Homonim Reveglio showed the exact location of all humans in the wreckage. All alive. Around each, they created a protective bubble, providing them with fresh air and preventing any shifts in the rubble from causing further damage. With those tasks completed, they could then move the debris at a rapid pace.

Huge chunks of concrete and stone were lifted away one at time, stacked on the unoccupied plot of land across the road. The first survivor was located fifteen minutes after the earth movement. Maria Vividos, the island's best cheese maker, was found disoriented and with a shallow head wound. After stopping the bleeding, and running a quick diagnostic to ascertain that none of her injuries were serious, Hermione turned her over to the waiting arms of her family with instructions of bed rest and careful monitoring. They quickly carried her away.

Pikinos, the flirty, sloe-eyed teenager who waited tables at the Taverna, was found ten minutes later, shaken but unharmed. She'd crouched down beneath the ancient timber table, which had remained intact, and effectively sheltered her from falling debris. Once she was helped from the rubble, her father ran forward, enfolded his daughter in his arms, and led her down the path to home.

The last to be found, and the most seriously wounded, was Tedo. He was still sitting on the smashed remains of his napping chair. There was no reason he should have lived; the ceiling above him had crashed down entirely. But Severus had cast a mild protective charm on Tedo to protect him from whacking is head during his drunken adventures, and it had been enough to keep the stones from crushing his upper body. He was alive: weak from blood loss, with a compound fracture jutting painfully from his upper thigh, but alive. He greeted Severus with a raspy "Hey ugly! You took your time getting here, didn't you?"

Severus, his voice horse with emotion, smiled. "Teodoro, you know I had other things to do than look for your repulsive face."

Tedo chuckled weakly. "Yes. Yes. Now don't forget my books." Once reassured on that score, the old Greek allowed himself to be levitated clear of the rubble with minimal complaint.

While Severus meticulously disinfected the wound, and set the bone, Hermione began the tedious process of lifting the collection of books free from the rubble one by one. Once the wound was sealed, Severus summoned and administered a variety of supportive potions, which Tedo refused to swallow until offered Ouzo to wash them down with. When at last the old Greek had been carted away to bed, Severus rejoined Hermione in the rubble field.

Their weariness, combined with the delicate condition of the collection, and the fact that they were inanimate objects, made finding the books even more difficult than rescuing the humans. But they persisted, for another hour, until the task was done. When the last book had been cleared, Hermione and Severus stumbled their way off the rubble pile. They stood, obviously exhausted, in front of the now silent crowd of witnesses. The majority of the island's population was standing, mute, staring at them with blank faces. No one said a word.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Severus shift his body into a defensive stance. They were, she knew, too tired to safely apparate unless it was absolutely necessary. And so, though she was weary, and she hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't come to that, she also changed stance and prepared to defend herself and her man.

SSS

He knew and cared for every individual before him. But individuals are one thing. A crowd of people is another. Crowds faced with something as overwhelming as evidence of magic were sometimes understanding, sometimes...not.

The first to approach was Kristos. He bypassed Hermione, which given how defensive Severus was feeling, was a very good thing. Instead, he grabbed Severus and pulled him into a back-crushing hug. Pounded him on the back. Kissed him loudly on each cheek. Kristos then turned to a bemused Hermione and did the same for her.

Kristos then marched to a stack of books, swept them up in his beefy arms, and said, "I will take these home and care for them until the Library can be rebuilt. Your next Ouzo is on me." Then he turned and walked back towards the Taverna.

The Christophiles patriarch came next, his brood of six behind him. He shook her hand, kissed him, then passed them to each of his children to do the same. And so it went. The villagers came. They said a word or two. Each kissed them, hugged them, touched them. Not a single soul seemed surprised by what had transpired, and all of those who were able took as many books as they could carry home to be cleaned and tended to.

When the last of the witnesses had departed, and the last of the books carted away, Hermione and Snape stared at each other in shock.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I guess they knew."

Severus nodded, wrapped his right arm around her shoulders, and guided them both up the hill.

SSSSSS

They arrived at the cottage to find the front door open to the night, and Mama in their kitchen. She took one look at them, tutted, and pushed them into the bathroom.

"Too Dirty! Like little rats. Go clean yourselves. Then you'll feel better."

Too tired to argue, they complied.

SSSS

When they emerged, Mama herded them over to the table, and placed a platter of bread and a steaming bowl of avoglemono in front of each of them. When the tangy savoury aroma hit her nose, Hermione almost cried.

She and Severus tucked in as if the hadn't eaten in days.

SSSSS

He used hunk of bread to scrape out the dregs of his third bowl of soup, then pushed his plate away. To his left, Hermione was still slowly, methodically, spooning broth into her mouth. He turned to Mama.

"You knew."

Mama shrugged, and plopped a platter of cookies and yoghurt onto the table. "About your magic? Well of course Mama knew." She raised her grey eyebrows at him. "You think you are the only smart one? You arrive and you make me tea and suddenly I can walk like a teenager? Arthritis gone. Poof." She wiggled those eyebrows suggestively. "You arrive and suddenly my back steps stop crumbling and my chickens lay extra eggs? Poof. You live here twenty years, and you age twenty days. Magic. Obviously. Mama was not born yesterday."

Hermione giggled, and set down her spoon. "No, you weren't born yesterday. But still, Mama, it's a leap of logic, isn't it? I grew up in the non-magical world, and I'm pretty sure that I would never have made that leap."

Mama, still smiling, sat down with them at the table, dipped a cookie in the yoghurt, and daintily nibbled. "Maybe you are right...but you are not the first magicians to come to Arki. My grandmother told me about a crazy one who lived in the sea cave when she was a girl. Then Gustav arrived. Lived here for fifty years. Used to make my toys dance around for me when no one was looking. Died when I was still a girl.

"Then, after my husband died, Francois came. He was very old. But a sweet man. And handsome too, in a tanned, wrinkly way. After my Stephan died, he flitted around me for years, like an old honeybee." She smiled. "I thought he was too old for me, until he finally convinced me otherwise."

Hermione stared in surprise. "You've had THREE other wizards here? And one of them was your boyfriend?"

Mama grinned slyly. "My lover! Shrivelled like a prune, but he made this old body sing like a bird in an olive tree!" She looked at Snape's shocked face and cackled. "What? I told you Mama liked sex!" She merrily continued on. "Old Francois, he believed that the old magic here calls to people like you...especially when they are lost and searching. He said that as long as the magic pulses, Arki will always have a magician. After Francois died, the whole village waited for the next one. It is good to have a magician around. Everything is just a little bit better, no? And then you turned up." Mama smiled, set down her teacup, reached over to pat Severus on the hand. "Mama likes this magic. First it brings me a lover, and then it brings me a son." She turned to Hermione, squeezed her hand too. "And now a daughter, yes?"

Hermione smiled back. "Yes."

Mama smiled in satisfaction. "Good, good. Mama is happy. Now," she said to Hermione with a gleam in her eye, "When do I meet my grandchildren."

SSSS

AN: Sorry to those of you who were incensed by the earthquake cliff-hanger. I didn't mean to do it, honest! I hope you'll all sleep better now that Tedo is safe.

I am working on 34, and will hopefully post it before I leave the country on Thursday. When I return a week later I'll post chapter 35, which I believe will be the ending of our little tale. Almost there, guys! Thank you so much for sticking with me!


	33. June

_Author's note. I know I told you guys there were only two chapters left. I lied. There are three. I know this, because I just wrote them. Basically, we're going to wrap this all up over the course of one summer: June, July, and August, one month per chapter. Enjoy._

_June_

Today, Hugo would see his Mum again. It would be the first time he'd seen her since he'd revealed the nature of his "gift" (as Severus called it) to her six weeks ago. And he was nervous.

He still wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing. Snape had been on him about it since Christmas, having launched a campaign of weekly letters almost as soon as he returned to Greece. The man was relentless. In the end, his steady barrage had convinced Hugo that his mum's reaction would only grow worse the longer he delayed. So he'd finally written to her, and told her everything.

She had been furious. Normally, she was not a howler-sending kind of mother. But in this case, she had made an exception. "Dying father or not," her howler screeched across the great hall, "families do not keep important information from each other. " Almost as soon as the howler combusted in an angry poof, his mobile had rung with her irate voice on the other end.

It had been a long week.

Thankfully, over the subsequent weeks, she had begun to mellow. He knew that worry was the lion's share of her reaction, so he'd reassured her, honestly, about how well he was doing. She'd calmed considerably when he'd explained how good the shields were that Severus had taught him to build. She'd mellowed further when he talked about the soothing silence he now had in that part of his brain, and how happy he was to feel his gift firmly in his control. His unexpectedly good results on his NEWTs had brought him final clemency. The proof, as they said, was in the pudding.

He smiled to himself. Three outstandings: Defence, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures. His DADA inspector had even written a note on the bottom of the parchment claiming he hadn't seen a student duel like that since he'd tested Uncle Harry. And all the rest of his Newts had been Exceeds Expectations. Considering how poorly he'd done on the OWLs, He was quite elated by the results.

He was particularly proud of the EE in the "subtle science" of Potions, traditionally his weakest subject. Remedial potions-appreciation was another topic upon which Severus had expounded in his weekly missive. Now that Hugo could focus, he had begun to get it. He was starting to appreciate how stirring a cauldron precisely, and feeling the magic simmer and shimmer could be a thing of great beauty. Given another few months of catch-up, he had no doubt that he could have scored an O there as well. As it was, he had already vaulted from the middle of his class to a spot quite near the top.

Not bad for a "mediocre student", if he did say so himself.

SSSS

At precisely 9am, there was a crack of apparition and his reverie was over; his mother and Severus appeared just outside the Hogwarts gates. In an instant, his mum had him in her arms, hugging the life out of him.

"Mum! You're crushing me!" She made no move to release him. If anything, she pulled him tighter. "Mum!"

Hermione broke away. "Hugo Weasley. Given what you put me through, you are just going to have to deal with me being a little emotional for a while." She put a hand on each of his shoulders and looked at him gravely. "I'm not sure you understand how serious this was. Go ahead, look inside my heart."

Though he'd been peering into her emotions for years, he had never done it with permission. It was...embarrassing. But he did as requested, peered into the enormous and complicated bubble of emotions inside his mother. There was anger, of course, but that was a thin skin over a mass of fear and worry that was so painful that he burst into tears just touching it. "Oh." he said, now sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Mum. I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

She gathered him close again, gently this time. "I know baby. Just don't ever do that again, okay? I could have helped you build your shields sooner. I could have helped you get through it. What if you hadn't been able to cope? What if you'd needed me, and I didn't even know? You know how many young empaths kill themselves? I've done the research. Seventy percent, Hugo. Seventy! What if I'd lost you? What would that have done to me? To Rose?" She stood him away from her so that she could look him full in the face. "Don't ever leave me out of a part of your life again. I don't care if it's an ugly part, a hard part, or just embarrassing. If it's part of you, I...want..to...know. Okay?"

He nodded, wiped his eyes. "Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Hugo, still feeling vulnerable after his interaction with his mum, surprised Severus by turning to him and hugging him tight. Knowing how touchy the man was about it, he kept scrupulously clear of Snape's emotions, but he had a pretty good idea of what they were nonetheless. He smiled when the older man's arms reluctantly came around him. This family stuff was still hard for him, but he was...adjusting.

They were just breaking awkwardly apart when the sound of a girl yelling, and feet running down the path got their attention.

"Sorry I'm late! Mum!" Rose screeched as she ran into her mother's arms. They hugged, and Hermione pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter's shining hair.

"Hello you!" Rose said, her face split by a huge grin.

"Hello you." Her mother said, with a similar smile.

Rose turned immediately to Severus, nodded. "Severus."

He nodded back with equal ceremony. "Rose."

"You're wearing your Hufflepuff face again. Ew."

He grimaced. "Indeed."

Then, with scarcely less enthusiasm than she'd shown her mother, she jumped into his arms too.

SSSS

While Hermione and Hugo sat on the lawn and talked through the remains of their issues, Severus took Rose off for a walk down the lake path.

"This is far enough," he said, sitting them down under a tree near the water's edge

Rose looked at Severus expectantly. "Yes?" She said, batting her eyelashes.

"Proceed. You may now inform me of what you wish to tell me."

Rose widened her eyes in feigned innocence. "What ever do you mean, Severus?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Your letters implied that you had news. And you look like a snake that has swallowed a particularly juicy rat."

Rose snorted. "No. I look like a Slytherin who has just gotten something she's wanted for a long time."

"How long of a time?"

"Two years now."

"And this goal was achieved?"

"Two weeks ago. Finally."

"And why did it take the Slytherin so long to achieve her goal?"

She laughed and ticked off her list on her fingers. "First, she had to make another Slytherin think it was his idea. And boys can be so slow. Then she had to give him enough time to develop his own devious and drawn-out plan to accomplish it. It was quite impressive, really. Then she had to throw up some roadblocks to make it suitably difficult for him to achieve."

"A boyfriend, then." Severus felt something wild and protective rise in his chest.

She smirked happily. "For now. He hasn't realized it yet, but he's going to marry me. But I think I'll give him a few years to come to that realization."

He looked at her with a deadpan expression. "You are truly magnanimous."

"Aren't I?"

"Indeed. Intelligent?"

"Graduating Highest Honours."

"Powerful?"

"Would I pick someone who wasn't?"

"Ambitious?"

She practically purred. "Very."

"And he treats you..."

"Exactly as I wish to be treated. He knows who he's dealing with."

Severus digested this. Noted his fervent desire to hex the little as-yet-unmet bastard. Then thought with satisfaction that while the bastard might indeed know who he was dealing with in the very bright and dangerous person of Rose, he was now also dealing with Severus Snape. And THAT was another thing entirely.

"And I will meet this paragon..."

"At the ceremony this afternoon. He's graduating with Hugo."

Snape smiled a tight grin of anticipation. He was already formulating the various "instructions" he would give the young man in question. Oh, yes, it would be an interesting day indeed.

SSSS

Twenty years had passed, and the Hogwarts graduation ceremony had changed not one whit. To Severus's mind, it was still prolonged and pompous, with a dash of sanctimony sprinkled in for good measure. The one difference was that this year, he had players in the game, which made the entire interminable experience more tolerable. When the academic awards began, he leaned forward with expectation. He was awaiting the announcement of Highest Honours when he was jolted by Hugo's name being read aloud. It seemed that the young man had been recognized for the stratospheric improvement of his academic work in the second half of the year. His mother and sister jumped to their feet and began cheering. While he did not feel it was his place to join them, he did applaud more vigorously than was his wont; seeing Hugo's stunned pleasure at the recognition given him was...moving.

He was still processing this experience when Minerva called out the names for Highest Honours. Rising to claim their awards were two young ladies, and a tall, handsome young man with platinum hair, a serious demeanour, and impeccably tailored dress robes. He almost laughed aloud. Scorpius Malfoy. His Rose was dating a Malfoy. And not just any Malfoy, but Draco's son.

He turned to look at Rose, who was watching her boyfriend cross the stage with a smug combination of pride and ownership.

He chuckled, though he could sense the potential complications racking up. Ah, well, at least it didn't appear as if his life would become boring any time soon.

SSSS

During the celebration afterwards, he glided over to Rose and Scorpius, and awaited introduction. Rose obliged.

"Scorpius, may I present Sevroos Alevizos."

"The man who co-wrote the wizard's cancer paper with Mrs. Weasley?" Scorpios asked politely.

"And my mother's boyfriend."

The boy bowed, deeply and gracefully. "I am honoured to make your acquaintance."

"Indeed. Rose. I wish to have a word with your young man."

Rose snorted. "Do you now? Sorry Scorpius." She patted him on the arm in mock consolation. "Nice knowing you!" she said, placing a kiss on his cheek. Then with a final smirk, she merrily skipped off to join her mother.

Despite her deserting him with such alacrity, Severus noted how fond the boy's eyes were as he tracked her progress across the lawn. Thus he wasn't entirely surprised when the boy turned to him with resolution in his eyes.

"Before you begin, sir, may I say something?"

"You may."

The boy drew himself up to his full height, which, even though he'd not yet reached his full growth, was a scant inch shorter than Severus. "Sir, if you please, I intend to behave with every honour towards your...towards Rose." He glanced over at her chatting with her mother, and smiled before returning to Severus. "Though we have only begun dating, I very much believe that she may eventually become my wife. I have informed my family of that fact. And I intend to treat Rose accordingly."

Severus smiled, a thin smile that was far from comforting. "See that you do. For though her father may be dead, know that she is not without...protection. You come from a powerful family, young man. So I expect that power is something you respect. As you do not know me, I offer you fair warning: I am a powerful wizard. Should I ever hear one word that that girl has been mistreated, neglected, or in anyway behaved unto in an ungentlemanly fashion, the consequences will be...severe." A gaze that had reduced thousands of students to abject terror was employed to drive his point home.

Severus noted with satisfaction that Scorpius did not reflexively sneer at him as his father would have. He took this to mean the boy was not so insecure as his sire had been. Nor did he immediately test Severus, as his grandfather would have. That gave him hope for the boy's temper. Instead, he held Severus eyes only as long as was polite, and then in a show of acquiescence lowered his eyes and bowed in agreement. It was, according to Wizarding protocol, exactly the way to handle such a challenge from the father of one's mate. Severus' eyebrows shot up to his head.

"You've studied wizarding protocols?"

Scorpius cheeks flushed, and he nodded. "Only recently. Rose warned me that you were...significant to her. She also told me you were somewhat old fashioned. I thought a bit of study on that topic might be...prudent."

"Indeed." He said, impressed despite himself. The boy was scared, as well he should be, but he handled himself well. He rose a notch in Severus' estimation. He rose further when the boy called over his parents to make the required introductions.

"My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy. Mother, Father, may I present to you Mr. Alevizos, co-author of _The__Treatment__and__Cure__of__Wizard's__Cancer,_ and protector of Rose Weasley?"

Mrs. Malfoy nodded without interest, gave a perfunctory "Charmed" in response to Severus' bow, and drifted away. But Draco stepped forward and shook Severus' hand elegantly and with enthusiasm. "It is a pleasure, Mr. Alevizos. Since you and Mrs. Weasley published, there has been much speculation as to your identity. Claiming you as an acquaintance is quite the privilege."

Severus paused for a moment. He knew very well the moment he opened his mouth, his sonorous voice would reveal his identity. Decided this time was as good as any other. "Mr. Malfoy, you have claimed me as such for many years now."

Draco's face went slack, and then, much to both their embarrassment, his eyes filled up. "Professor? Is that you?"

Snape nodded.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes. And please lower your voice. While I am willing to reveal myself to your family, I am hopeful not to reveal it to this entire gathering. Oof."

The last was forced from him when Draco threw protocol aside, and grabbed Severus in an extremely tight hug. It was a reaction that was so uncharacteristic that it was noted and commented upon by many around them. Severus rolled his eyes, sighed, patted the weeping man on the back, and waited for the outburst to pass.

Coming back from the dead. It was certainly inconvenient from time to time.

SSSS

Hermione watched fondly as Severus and Draco caught up together. It was lovely to see him reclaiming bits and pieces of his former life. He'd known that coming here risked his exposure, much more so than his visit to her home in London, and yet, he'd been adamant. He would not miss Hugo's graduation. Hermione smiled. Those two. Polar opposites in personality, Hugo with his sunny disposition, and Severus with his brooding. And yet, they were thick as thieves. It was just another gift to watch Severus's solid presence weft into the fabric of her children's needs.

She gazed at him as he continued to talk with Draco. Draco. Though she'd never quite gotten over her childhood dislike of the man, his heartfelt joy at seeing Severus, as well as the deferential and affectionate way he had goaded him into talking about his life had her reconsidering.

Now that Rose was dating Scorpius, it looked like all of them were going to be getting to know the Malfoys on a deeper level. Not that she minded, really. While she didn't care for the opulence the family still displayed, they did seem to have jettisoned all the blood purity foolishness, if their treatment of her mixed blooded daughter was any measure.

Harry was having a minor heart attack about it, but it was past time for him to get over that rivalry anyway. Love bloomed where it would, and there was no doubt the two young people were mad for each other. Hugo had assured her that Scorpius' emotion was true, and as far as Hermione was concerned, that was just about the best endorsement the young man could have.

Hermione caught Severus' eye, and indicated to him that she was walking over to talk to Harry. She then blew him a saucy kiss. And though he smirked and rolled his eyes, she could tell by the posture of his body that her gesture had pleased him.

SSSS

The next morning, bright and early, they apparated back to London. The children chose to take the Express; she suspected that Rose wanted poorly chaperoned time with Scorpius, as Severus had already, over the course of their brief twenty-four hour visit, interrupted several attempts at snogging. And Hugo? He simply wanted to savour his last ride with his friends.

And so she and Severus had most of a day to kill in London. They ate lunch at another fine restaurant, and she did her best not to wince at the confundus that yielded them a table in the otherwise packed eatery. Afterwards they strolled along the Thames. Hermione goaded Severus into riding the Eye with her. They raided a large muggle bookstore, each emerging with multiple purchases. They sat at a café, sipped tea and people watched.

Then, at the appropriate time, they utilized one of the many apparition points in the city to pop down to King's Cross. The train had just arrived. Severus had the distinct pleasure of glaring Scorpius' lips off Rose. It was good to know he had not lost his touch. Hugo said goodbye to his friends. Severus promised to accept Draco's invitation to dinner the next time he was in town.

Then the four of them caught a port key to Athens, and took the ferry home.

End, Chapter 34


	34. July

July

In their first months on Arki, he and Rose were rarely at home. Compared with life at Hogwarts, or even in muggle London, the amount of freedom they had on the island was astounding. They could go anywhere, do anything they wanted. They were even allowed to take the ferry to nearby islands as long as they cleared it in advance. And it wasn't just the freedom that was intoxicating. Everything here was so different and new.

The sere landscape was beautiful and alien. The magic was so old and so near the surface. The culture of the islanders was so incredibly warm and welcoming. It didn't matter who they ran in to, everyone was happy to spend a bit of time chatting with, and more often than not, feeding them.

Especially Mama. After comparing the morning offerings at the cottage with those down the hill, they quickly settled into the routine of taking their breakfast at her house every day. It let Severus and Mum make googly eyes at each other in peace, and it got them these crazy breakfasts that sounded disgusting (egg yolk and sugar on bread? Really? Really?) and somehow ended up tasting soooooo good. Not that Severus wasn't a good cook, he was. But he steadfastly refused to prepare anything more complicated that tea and toast in the morning. If they wanted something better, they were on their own. Rose claimed that this was his Slytherin way of manipulating them over to Mama's. If so, he had to admit that it worked pretty effectively.

At first, he'd worried about burdening Mama...after all, she was so _old_. So at Rose's insistence, he finally gave in and checked. It shocked him to realize that rather than feeling burdened, Mama was beside herself with joy at having them so consistently under foot. Having them around made her feel...satisfied somehow, though how having two ravenous teenagers show up at your table every morning was satisfying was beyond him. But it worked for her, and it worked for them, so he ceased fretting about it.

After breakfast, they'd run home, stuff their rucksacks full of food, and head off towards whatever destination appealed to them. They visited the sea cave where the crazy old magician lived when Mama was a girl. They explored the ruined monastery, the temple remains, the abandoned church. They combed beaches, explored tide pools, waded out to sandbars and small islands. They hung out with the villagers, milked goats, helped with cheese making, took rides with the fishermen, and spent long days floating like corks in the calm waters off Taganakia.

SSSS

The only rule to their summer existence was that they had to be home by sunset…or else. They'd never experienced the "or else," but with Severus in the house, they were utterly uninterested in doing so. So they were generally home well before then.

By the time they'd tromp in, dusty and tired, Mum and Severus would be sitting on the terrace, having a glass of wine, watching the sky. All four of them would hang out, give what Severus referred to as the debrief of the day. They'd hear about Mum and Severus' latest research project, and then they'd chatter about what they'd seen and done, all the while watching the sun quench itself in the harbour.

Once the sun was down, they'd all head into the kitchen to help Severus with dinner. Mum was allowed to slap the temporary extending charm on the space so that they could all work together, and she was allowed to chop basic ingredients, but otherwise was banished from the work. Rose had claimed baking as her culinary interest, so she would trot out whatever bread or cookie or cake she had learned under Mama's tutelage. He himself had proven to have a particularly good hand with marinating and cooking goat and lamb for some reason. So in general, Severus handled the surf, while he spearheaded the turf part of any meal. While that was going on, Mum would set the table on the terrace, and when it was ready, they'd all sit down to eat.

On the weekends, the conversation was free flowing and fun. But during the weekdays, Severus insisted that the four of them have an intellectual discussion over dinner. He insisted that their minds need not entirely atrophy just because it was summer vacation. At first these conversations had felt stilted and formal. But after a few weeks he found himself beginning to enjoy it, and it was obvious that both Mum and Rose loved the chance to dig in to whatever topic was at hand.

Muggle politics, Greek history and its relevance to the present day, theories of mystigenisis, moral quandaries, they were all fair game. After dinner, each of them would suggest a topic, the would vote on the one with most interest, and have 24 hours to go forth and find something of worth to bring to the table.

Given the intellectual make-up of the people at the table, the topic du-jour often resulted in cheerful, loud, and spirited debate. Rose and Severus, in particular, loved to fight opposite sides of an issue, nose-to-nose. But his favourite was watching Severus and Mum take each other on. He smiled to himself. They were so well matched those two. And though the issues got sometimes heated, the rule was, no one was allowed to take the table debates personally. And for the most part, strangely, no one did.

It was sort of like a family scrabble game. They discussed and argued, and fought for every point, then put the board game away as soon as pudding was served.

It was a crazy little institution, but Hugo had to admit, he was fond of it.

SSSS

After dinner, Rose, whose curfew began at sundown, would disappear to her bedroom for one of her marathon mobile conversations with Scorpius.

He, however, being above the age of majority, was free to head out if he wished. He could walk the beach at night, or go to the makeshift outdoor movie theatre in the square. But more often than not, he went to the Taverna to play Backgammon with Tedo, and to flirt with Pikinos. The curvy waitress was young, pretty, and had made her interest in him so abundantly clear that one did not need to be an empath to feel it.

SSSS

So obvious were Pikinos' overtures that Severus was not overly surprised when Hugo finally approached him to speak on the matter.

"Severus, you know Pikinos, don't you?"

Severus lifted a single eyebrow.

Hugo coughed. "Well, of course you do. Sorry. Well, uh, the thing is...she wants, uh, wants to have sex with me. And she's projecting that pretty loudly."

"Is she?" Severus drawled. "I had not noticed."

Hugo blushed. "That obvious, huh? I didn't even have to look."

Severus lifted another eyebrow.

Hugo stammered. "Well, I did look, just to be sure you know, because girls can be weird, but the point is, I didn't need to. The invitation was pretty clear."

"Indeed." Severus closed his book and gave his full attention to the boy. "And what do you intend to do about it?"

Hugo looked at him as if he were crazy. "Well, I intend to take her up on it. Of course."

"Of course." The boy was eighteen after all, and only recently freed from the press of other people's emotions. But unless he was sorely mistaken, Pikinos was not the right match for this bright, loving young man.

Proceed carefully, Snape told himself. "And your feelings about her are..."

Hugo sighed. "Severus, stop worrying. And before you ask, no, I did not look. It's written on your face." He scrubbed a hand over his freckled forehead. "Look. I know Piki is not 'the one'. I'm not in love with her. And she's not in love with me. She's a little bored and she thinks I'd be fun to pass the time with. And she's funny and pretty, and she likes me as a person, and she thinks I'm cute and, well..." He trailed off with a tinge of hopelessness in his voice. "Can't that be enough...for now?"

He considered. Pikinos might not be overly bright, and she might be rather free with her favours, but she was good-natured, and unlikely to wound the boy. As long as Hugo's heart was not in danger of becoming engaged, he saw nothing wrong with the two of them enjoying each other. So he nodded his agreement.

"For now. But longer term, you will need someone with more…substance. However, you hardly need my permission. You are of majority. Which you know. So you wanted to speak to me on this matter because..."

Hugo rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Because I've never had sex before, and I want to be good at it, and I understand from good authority that you have, um, skills."

Snape, who had just taken a sip of his tea, had to use all of his body control to resist snorting it through his nose. While he had suspected something of the sort as Hugo's intention when he started the conversation, he had not expected the boy to be so...direct about it. Trust a Gryffindor to throw subtlety to the wind.

The idea of talking to this young man about the techniques and subtleties of skilful sex made him...well it made him bloody uncomfortable is what it made him. Now why should that be? He'd often discussed such matters with his Slytherins. Furthermore, he had always deplored the indirect and vague sexual information most parents provided their children. If only parents provided their children with clear, factual sexual information, he'd always believed, many of the pitfalls of young love might be avoided.

And yet here he was, being consulted upon this very topic, and for some reason his instinctive desire was to run as fast as he could. The last thing he wanted to be doing was offering sex tips to THIS eighteen year-old boy. But this communication, he reminded himself, was a privilege. The boy was treating him like a father, and he must act accordingly. But first things first.

"Rose, if you're going to lurk in the shadows, I'd recommend you disillusionment charm first. "

Chagrined, Rose emerged from her hiding place behind the sofa. "I would have if I were of age." She grumbled. "How did you see me there?"

Severus snorted. "I did not see you. I heard your smirk."

She snorted back. "Smirks are silent."

"Nonetheless."

"Just so you know," she said, with an exasperation that looked very much like her brother's, "…I never needed any charms before there was another Slytherin in the house."

"Well now you do. You may leave now; Hugo and I have things to discuss."

Rose planned her next statement carefully. Discarded the instinct to whine or to wheedle. This was Severus after all. An emotional ploy would get her booted directly from the door. Logic, however, might do the trick. "If you please, I would prefer to stay; this information may be of use to me in the near future."

It just got better and better. "Rose," Severus said, pinching the top of his nose, "your mother is far better placed to instruct you on the female aspect to these matters than I."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I've already heard all that stuff. I want to hear the male side. I want to know what your side of it feels like, and what men think about, that sort of thing." Her eyes flashed craftily as she found another tactic. "If you won't tell me this, who will? Do you want me asking Scorpius these questions?"

Severus shuddered, and barked an emphatic "No." He then looked somewhat desperately at Hugo, but he got no help there. The boy was long since immune to his sister's interference in most aspects of his life, so he simply shrugged his shoulders in acquiescence, indicating that he didn't mind as long as Severus didn't.

Severus sighed. He minded, but not for any rational reason. Having Rose there shouldn't make him feel any more uncomfortable just because she was female. Therefore he wouldn't let it.

"Very well." He sighed again, and plunged forward. "If you wish to be a skillful lover there are some basic principals that you should know..."

SSSS

Hermione clutched her sides laughing. "Seriously? Both of them at the same time?" She roared. "Oh, better you than me, lover. I had a hard enough time with the required reproductive talk. And that was separately. Together? And they wanted sex tips from you?" She laughed again. "Oh, Merlin. I can just imagine the questions now."

He hadn't really seen the humour in it, but Hermione's reaction was pulling him in. "I'm not sure that you can." He chuckled. "Rose's imagination is...impressive. I almost pity poor Scorpius."

Hermione chortled again at length, to the point where Severus began to worry vaguely about the lack of oxygen to her brain.

He shook his head. "The worst was discussing techniques for delaying ejaculation. I had just introduced the 'dead pups' technique..." He had to pause for a moment to make himself heard over Hermione's roar, "when everything got truly out of control. Hugo was horrified, while Rose was laughing so hard I was sure she would do herself injury. Very much as you are doing now."

Hermione unsuccessfully did her best to dial down her laughter, while Severus simply watched in amusement. At length, she succeeded in bringing herself down to a dignified giggle...until she looked at his face and began to ramp up at him.

Gods, how he loved this woman. Loved her ability to simply surrender to the joys of life, to laugh and laugh like there was no pain anywhere in the world. But if she didn't breathe soon, she was going to pass out. He smirked. If he couldn't calm her, he would simply have to...redirect her focus. It was a skill he'd been honing over the months that they'd been lovers, and he had it down to a science.

He stalked over to her. He knew she watched him when he moved, read the tenors of his emotions in the movements of his body. So he approached with mock ferocity, and took her into his arms. Using his deepest voice, he ground out the word "Enough." That tone of voice, he knew from experience, had the surprising, but felicitous, effect of turning her legs to water. Sure enough, her laughter died rapidly as he pulled her body into contact with his.

"Granger," he said, drawling and enunciating every word"…after today's conversation with your children, it appears that once again, you...owe...me."

He paused, held her still against the entire surface of his body, felt her breathing go shallow, and watched with satisfaction as the dominant emotion in her eyes shift from mirth to arousal. Invitation had been offered, and her body moulded into his in a gesture of complete acceptance.

"How, oh how," she said in her throatiest voice, "can I make it up to you?" She tipped her head back, baring her throat to him in a gesture of surrender. Apparently, she knew his triggers too.

The sight of her offering her neck to him sent blood flowing to recently discussed parts of the male anatomy. "I am sure," he growled, as he lowered his mouth, "you will think of something."

SSSS

The next day, Hermione was preparing to practice yoga on the terrace when Rose came and sat next to her. Normally, by this time of day, she and her brother would be out adventuring, but today Hugo was off with Pikinos, and Rose had been left behind. From the look on her face, Hermione knew that her daughter was troubled by something more than losing her travel partner.

"Hello you." She said, in their traditional greeting.

"Hello you." Rose answered back, dispiritedly.

"Looks like you're chewing on something. Want to talk to me about what's up?"

Rose nodded, sighed, walked into the comfort of her mother's arms. After a moment or two, she began to cry.

Hermione let her weep for a while, stroking her back in response. After a few minutes, she began to probe. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Mum," Rose said, her voice heavy with tears, "I almost called Severus Dad yesterday." Her voice hitched, and she had to take two deep breaths before she could speak more words. "He was talking to us about sex, and we were pushing his buttons, and he was so earnest, trying so hard to do the right thing, and it was so much like tormenting Dad that it just, almost, slipped out." Her shoulders shook with the force of her emotion. "I feel horrible."

Rose buried her face deeper into her mother's shoulder, and took another deep shuddering breath. "I promised him I'd never forget him, and now it hasn't even been three years since he died and I'm already calling another man Dad. I feel like...I feel like," her voice rose to a wail, "Oh, Mum, I feel like I've betrayed him."

Rose sobbed in her arms, and Hermione took a shuddering breath of her own. Where was the parenting manual that told you the right way to handle moments like this? Where was the book that gave one detailed instructions on what to say to help a child rebuild from the deepest loss a young person could endure? She longed for answers, a textbook, a roadmap…but in her heart, she knew that there were none. So she sighed, and proceeded to do what good parents have done since the dawn of time. She followed her instincts, and gave her child the deepest words of her heart.

"Oh, my Rose. My sweetheart," Hermione said, rocking her child in her arms. "I can understand how you might feel that way. I felt that way a little when I started to fall in love with Severus. But I know your dad wouldn't have minded." She ran her fingers over her daughter's silky hair, and hoped that she would get the next part right. "Whether you choose to do so or not, your father would be thrilled to know that you found someone you trusted enough to want to call by that name."

She could feel Rose calming in her arms, so she kept rocking, kept stroking that hair. "He told us, remember? He said we were to go out and live 'brilliant beautiful lives' after he left us. Remember that? Those were his exact words. Brilliant beautiful lives. Don't you think he would be upset if any of us passed on happiness out of loyalty to him? Don't you think that having someone you can love like a father is part of a brilliant beautiful life?"

Rose pulled away. Hermione's heart broke at how adult her sixteen year-old daughter suddenly looked.

"Brilliant beautiful lives." Rose said, ruefully, a bittersweet smile on her face. "He did say that." Then her eyes teared up. The adult look vanished, replaced by a vulnerability that made her appear suddenly younger than her years. "But, Mummy," she said, the tears once again streaming down her pale cheeks, "...Are you sure that he meant it?"

This, at least, Hermione knew how to handle. "Rose Molly Weasley, first Weasley in Slytherin House in three generations," Hermione said, her voice stern, "Did your father love you?"

The voice had its intended effect. Rose sat up straight, pulled herself together and nodded, "He did," she sniffed, "He loved me. He really really did."

"Then" she said, putting all the love and encouragement she could in the smile she beamed at her beautiful daughter, "I am absolutely sure."

Rose nodded. Looked her mother in the eye. Took another shuddering breath. "Then if you don't mind, I think I'm going to change my mind about the whole oath thing. Would you tell Severus I said yes?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nope."

"You're going to make me do it myself, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Mum."

"Yes."

"I'm scared."

"I know baby."

"But I'm going to do it anyway." She took a deep breath, gave her mother an arch glance. "You know, Slytherins can be brave too."

Hermione pulled her daughter into her arms for another hug. "Yes, my love, they sure can."

SSSS

Author's Rant du Jour: When we lose someone with whom we are in romantic love, there is the societal expectation that eventually we will love again. (And thank goodness for that; it's just about the only part of dealing with grief that our culture gets right.)

But the cultural expectation when one loses a parent is that person can never be replaced. And that may be true. What one can do, however, if one is extremely lucky, is find someone who can fill the role the departed parent has left empty.

Sometimes people who are lucky enough to find a second parent call them by a parental name, sometimes not. But names have power. I believe that calling a person by the name of father, or mother, or any derivative thereof elevates the relationship to another level. Rose knows this in her heart. To call Severus Dad is a terrifying thing. It says goodbye to her beloved father, and opens the door to loving someone else just as much, which is a scary thing when your heart is still healing.

Thanks for reading,

Theolyn


	35. August

August

Severus waited at the dock for the three o'clock ferry. In order to keep the disturbance in the community to a minimum, they'd insisted that all of their magical guests arrive via boat. The Potters and the Grangers had arrived yesterday, the Weasleys and Minerva would arrive tomorrow. Filius and Pomona on Saturday. Today, it was the Malfoys who were arriving on-island.

To his right stood Rose. Though he knew that she was bursting with anticipation, she stood beside him completely composed. Elegant, quietly beautiful. It had shocked him how quickly, profoundly, irretrievably this young woman had stolen his heart. Though they looked nothing alike, she could not be more his daughter in thought and bearing if she had been a product of his own flesh. As her brother had, she had consented to bind herself to their new family. The decision had been easy for Hugo. For Rose, it had not. He had fully accepted her choice to decline, but his heart had soared when she changed her mind. She would be his daughter.

As if hearing his thoughts, she looked at him, gave him a conspiratorial glance, betraying, just for a moment how excited she truly was, and then resumed her dignified stance. They could see the faces of the passengers now. On the bow of the main deck, as resplendent as a bird of paradise among crows, stood Scorpius, his eyes searching for hers. He did not wave or gesture. Nor did she. But that did not lessen the punch of the moment when the two of them locked eyes.

"Bloody Hell..." muttered Hugo to his left, "they'd better go ahead and have sex soon, or they are going to kill me with all that unresolved tension."

Severus glared at the boy. "Raise your shields then." He gestured to the Taverna, and smirked. "Unless, of course, you and Pikinos can find a more enjoyable use for that energy."

The boy blushed, then grinned. "I guess we could think of something."

"I have no doubt."

Severus watched as Draco and his wife joined Scorpius at the bow of the boat. Three more people who knew who he was. He blew out a breath. There were now officially twenty two people from the magical world who knew his identity, several of whom were underage. The secret would not last much longer.

It was inevitable. Whether by intent or by accident, there was no way so large a number of individuals would allow him to continue unexposed. It simply defied human nature. That the secret had lasted all summer, he knew, was a testament to how much these people cared for him. But it was only a matter of time.

He and Hermione had already begun to plan for when the word got out. They would return to London. Make appearances. Use Potter's connections to influence the story's spin. Ensure that they were available until the majority of the furror died down. They would have to visit London regularly anyway, to see Hugo at University, and Rose at Hogwarts. During those visits they planned to feed the press sufficient fodder to keep them reasonably sated. As long as they did so skilfully, they believed they might keep Arki as their sacrosanct retreat as well as their primary home.

Weeks, months. He would not rush it. But he no longer dreaded it either. What did it matter? He would not face the furor alone. There was not one among these twenty two who wouldn't stand by him...well perhaps Mrs. Malfoy. But the others? He knew in his heart that he had their support.

Who knew that one could learn trust at such an advanced age?

SSSS

There would be no elaborate white wedding. It just was not necessary. Neither she, nor Severus could care less about the trappings. What mattered to both of them were saying the words and invoking the magic that would formalize their bonds as a family. Having their community there was a bonus, and anything else was overkill.

Instead of a traditional wedding gown, she'd chosen a plain A-line dress, with a scooped neck and a full, tea-length skirt. It was simple and lovely, and made her feel beautiful. All four of them would be wearing the same fine white linen that Severus wore habitually; the symmetry of that pleased her.

She'd decided against carrying a bouquet, and their wedding site would have no flowers or decorations of any kind. With the sapphire sea and the rugged coast behind them, she knew the ceremony would not lack for beauty.

SSSS

She and Severus awoke that morning, as usual, before dawn, and made love in the quiet dark. Afterwards, he held her face in his warm hands, stared at her with his fathomless eyes.

"Today." He said.

She smiled, her face still flushed and damp from their love-making. "Today." She answered back.

SSSS

While the women chatted, applied cosmetics and glamours, Rose, who had always had a way with such things, worked on her mother's hair. Hermione smiled at the conversation around her. This little interlude, with all of the women she loved in one room, filled her with warmth. She loved listening to the banter while her daughter twisted and braided and worked with small sections of her impossible strands. With her back to the mirror, she couldn't see what Rose was up to, but Rose had been a fashionable creature since birth, and Hermione knew she'd figure something out, somehow.

And she did. When she'd finished, the front of Hermione's head was shaped into a complicated, stylish tangle that complimented the shape of her face, and managed to look casual but sophisticated. The rest of her hair was left as its tempestuous self.

"I left the back the way Severus likes it, Mum. Just, fashioned up the front, you know?"

"Rose, you are a marvel. It's perfect."

Rose laughed. "I am, aren't I? And yes, it is pretty perfect."

Ginny came up behind her to look in the mirror. "Oh, that is good, Rose!" She reached behind her, and removed the simple strand of pearls from her neck, held them around Hermione's. "How about this with that hair? It can be your something borrowed."

The pearls Harry had given Ginny when Albus Severus was born. She liked the symbolism. And they did look lovely. So Hermione nodded and smiled, and the pearls were secured around her neck.

Molly cleared her throat. "Dearie. I hope I did the right thing. I have a little something for you too." She handed Hermione a large, bespelled box. "If it's the wrong thing, you don't have to use them."

Hermione opened the box, and her breath caught in her throat. Inside, were dozens of fresh orange blossoms, a single teardrop pearl wired in the centre of each.

As an adolescent, whenever she had envisioned herself as a bride, Hermione had always wanted an orange blossom bouquet. But she and Ron had married in early spring, when the fragile blossoms had not been in season.

"I thought you might think of them as a gift from Ron. He so wanted to be able to give them to you, and now he finally has. Oh, Hermione, he would be so glad that you are happy."

Hermione choked on a sob, and fell into her mother-in-law's arms. It felt right to bring something from her Ron to this wedding. After all, there was no future without the past.

After they'd calmed a bit, Hermione picked up the box again. She inhaled deeply. "Oh, gods, smell that, it's heavenly."

And so all the women crowded around, smelling the delicious citrus scent, and discussing how to use the flowers. Hermione reached a hand into the box, lifted one out reverently. "And the pearls?"

Molly blushed. "Those are from me. They aren't real, Dearie. Just a bit of paste really. But they're a bit special. See my mum gave me a pearl purse to carry on my own wedding day, and it broke a while back, so I took some of the beads and wired them in. I thought they might suit for your something old."

Hermione smiled. "They are a treasure."

"Here," said Rose, "Let me have those." And one by one, she tucked the orange blossoms into the complicated concoction of Hermione's hair. When she was done, she pressed a kiss to her Mum's cheek. "From Dad."

"Thank you, Rose. Molly. All of you. I'm just so very happy today." The last was said with tears coursing down her cheeks. That just about did it for the entire room. Molly burst into tears and Dr. Granger, and Ginny. Even Rose shed a tear or two. Mama didn't cry, but she did tutt comfortingly, proclaim "Is good luck to cry on a wedding day!" and pass out cups of chilled wine and tissues to all who were weeping.

It was Ginny who regained her control first, and squeezed her sister-in-law's hand. "If we're going to do it, we should go all the way. You have something borrowed, and the pearls can be your something old, and your dress is new. So we still need something blue."

Much to Hermione's amusement, all the women immediately began rustling in their respective purses and bags for something blue to round out the collection.

It was Mama who stepped forward, with a white box. She wiggled her eyebrows and spoke in her broken English. "I was going to give these later, but I give now instead. My cousin in Paris, she send them to me for you. And Sevroos too, yes?"

Inside were a dozen pair of the worlds prettiest, smallest, daintiest lace knickers...in every colour of the rainbow. The women, Hermione included, all roared with laughter. More wine was served, and the world's tiniest pale blue knickers were selected, and donned with great ceremony.

As she had the first time, Hermione's mother picked up her daughter's wedding dress, and held it for her to step in. But this time, it was Rose who claimed the privilege of zipping the dress up the back. Three generations of Granger eyes met in the mirror. Which resulted in more tears.

"Mum, you look beautiful."

"I do, don't I?" She looked at her daughter. "You too. But you're missing something." She reached back, pulled an orange blossom from own hair, tucked it into her daughter's. Kissed her daughter on the cheek. "There. From your father. Brilliant, beautiful lives, Rose."

"Brilliant, beautiful lives, Mum."

"Let's do this thing."

They embraced. Took turns glamouring away the signs of tears. Then Hermione and her cadre of women left Mama's house for the coast.

SSSS

Any tourist arriving on Arki that day would be out of luck. There would be no vendors to greet the ferry. No fishermen cleaning their boats in the harbour. No helpful passers-by to give directions. Even the Taverna, always open to the traveller, was closed. Every soul on Arki was attending the wedding ceremony of Sevroos and Hermioneee.

But the islanders had their own way of doing things. Instead of filing into seats in advance to await the bride's passage, all the guests who were able waited along the road that the bride would travel. Hermione had decidedly passed on riding a donkey, another island custom, but no one seemed to mind.

So she walked. As she approached the waiting guests, they cheered. As she and her women passed by, they filed in behind, forming a raucous procession. Some played musical instruments, some sang, and everyone chatted and laughed and called out to each other. It didn't seem to bother anyone that the procession had to travel over a mile to reach the northernmost coast. Everyone knew that they had chosen to marry in the very place they had first kissed, and the romance of that made the journey worthwhile.

When they arrived at the site, Severus and Hugo were there, waiting for them. Judging by the brilliance of Hugo's smile, he was incandescently happy. And Severus...He stood there, tall, serious, with the wind whipping his soft black hair, and eyes that saw nothing but her. Hermione smiled at him and saw something beautiful move across his face. Her heart throbbed in response.

Once before she had pledged herself to a man. She had loved him with her whole heart. They had walked through life together to the very gates of death.

To be able to feel that way again? To be able to live life, with all its joys and sorrows, hand-in-hand with this man?

She was the luckiest woman in the world. She stepped forward, and placed her hands into his.

Brilliant, beautiful life indeed.

SSSS

Severus Snape stood, the young man who would become his son at his side, the sea crashing behind him, and watched the boisterous procession move closer. At this moment, walking towards him was everything he'd never known that he wanted. A community that accepted him, made him welcome and useful. People from his old life who knew who he was and what he had done, and supported him nonetheless. A wonderful, bossy, wise old woman who had taught him what it meant to be loved. A razor-sharp, beautiful young woman who had consented to become his daughter. And Hermione. His friend. His lover. His wife.

He felt emotion rise high in his chest, and took a deep, shuddering breath. It was, for a moment, almost overwhelming. Then, he felt a warm hand squeeze his own. Hugo. The young man looked at him with gentle understanding. Rather than being annoyed by the boy's emotional eavesdropping, Snape surprised himself by finding that intimate moment comforting, rather than invasive. He felt...cared for. Significant. Loved.

He squeezed Hugo's hand back in thanks, and the boy's face erupted in a smile so bright it was practically blinding.

And then, at last, Hermione arrived. His Hermione. She smiled a slow, joyful smile and placed her capable hands into his. Instantly, his nerves melted away. With one voice, they began the incantation that would bind them together for a lifetime.

Once before, Severus Snape had pledged himself. In doing so, he had lost decades of his life, surrendered his freedom, his self esteem, and much of his soul. This time, when he bound his life to another's, he would lose nothing. Instead, he would gain everything a man could hope for.

Beside the glistening blue of his ocean, Severus Snape took a deep breath, and began his life again.

The End.

_Dedicated to Richard, my own dark potions master, and the bravest man I know. _

AN: Thank you all for reading. Can you believe it has only been 8 weeks since we started this crazy adventure? It feels like I've been hanging out with you guys forever now. I'm going to miss you!

Before I go, I want to offer some particular thanks to Orlando Switch, Renaid, HM88, Jen Lennon, HPG4ever, Sherrithewriter, Frecklysnape, Mollysister, Seriously Perkey, Aurette and most recently MinkyT. All of you had a significant impact upon this story one way or another. In gratitude, I've arranged to have Alan Rickman stop by all of your houses for a bit of a snog. I know, I know, it was the least I could do!

This story, as with most of my work, dealt a lot with the aftermath of loss. As a mother, I look at my happy, innocent daughter, and I wonder, how do prepare her for loss? How do I teach her resilience? How do I teach her that no matter how hard life kicks her, that she should always do whatever it takes to get up again? Well, I've boiled it down to two mantras. And I repeat them to her ad nauseum. And now, as a parting gift, I shall inflict them on you. It's okay to roll your eyes. Because, really, who wants unsolicited advice? But it's good stuff, so after you finish the ocular rotation, read it, 'kay? Anyway, here goes...

First: Always remember, the human heart can heal from anything.

And second: Never give up on life...you never know what might happen next.

May all your oceans be wide and deep, and may you keep hope close, even when you wander in dark places.

In deepest gratitude,

Theolyn


End file.
